RfflJNDANVILRDCK 


NANCY-  HUSTON  -BANKS 


3  6  8 


ROUND    ANVIL    ROCK 


"The  Angelus  was  pealing  from  the  bell  of  the  little  log  chapel." 


ROUND    ANVIL     ROCK 


A   ROMANCE 


BY 
NANCY   HUSTON   BANKS 

AUTHOR   OF   "  OLDFIELD  " 


THE   MACMILLAN    COMPANY 

LONDON:   MACMILLAN  &  CO.,  LTD. 
1903 

All  rigktt  ntirvtd 


COPYRIGHT,  1908, 
BY  THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY. 

Set  up,  electrotyped,  and  published  June,  1903. 


Kortooofi  JBnss 

J.  S.  Cuihing  i  Co.  -  Berwick  Jt  Smith  Co. 
Norwood,  Mui.,  U.S.A. 


Co  JHg  tfatfjer 


2229091 


A    PREFACE 

IN  weaving  a  romance  round  a  real  rock  and 
through  actual  events,  this  tale  has  taken  no 
great  liberty  with  fact.  It  has,  indeed,  claimed 
the  freedom  of  fiction  only  in  drawing  certain 
localities  and  incidents  somewhat  closer  together 
than  they  were  in  reality.  And  it  has  done 
this  notably  in  but  three  instances :  by  allowing 
the  Wilderness  Road  to  seem  nearer  the  Ohio 
River  than  it  really  was ;  by  anticipating  the 
establishment  of  the  Sisters  of  Charity ;  and  by 
disregarding  the  tradition  that  Philip  Alston  had 
gone  from  the  region  of  Cedar  House  before  the 
time  of  the  story,  and  that  he  died  elsewhere. 
These  deviations  are  all  rather  slight,  yet  they 
are,  nevertheless,  essential  to  any  faithful  de- 
scription of  the  country,  the  time,  and  the 
people,  which  this  tale  tries  to  describe.  The 
Wilderness  Road  —  everywhere  —  came  so  close 
to  the  life  of  the  whole  country  that  no  true 
story  of  the  time  can  ever  be  told  apart  from  it. 
The  Sisters  of  Charity  were  established  so  early 
and  did  so  much  in  the  making  of  Kentucky, 
that  a  few  months  earlier  in  coming  to  one 


viii  A  PREFACE 

locality  or  a  few  years  later  in  reaching  another, 
cannot  make  their  noble  work  any  less  vitally 
a  part  of  every  tale  of  the  wilderness.  The 
influence  of  Philip  Alston  over  the  country  in 
which  he  lived,  lasted  so  much  longer  than  his 
life,  and  the  precise  date  and  manner  of  his  death 
are  so  uncertain,  that  his  romantic  career  must 
always  remain  inseparably  interwoven  with  all 
the  romance  of  southern  Kentucky.  And  it  is 
for  these  reasons  that  this  story  of  nearly  a 
hundred  years  ago,  has  thus  claimed  a  few  of 
the  many  privileges  of  fiction. 


CONTENTS 


IIIAI'TFR  PAGE 

I.  THE  GIRL  AND  THE  BOY 1 

II.  THE  HOUSE  OF  CEDAR 14 

III.  "PHILIP  ALSTON,  GENTLEMAN"       ...  29 

IV.  THE  NIGHT  RIDE 49 

V.  ON  THE  WILDERNESS  ROAD      ....  60 

VI.  THE  CAMP-MEETING 72 

VII.  A  MORNING  IN  CEDAR  HOUSE  ....  88 

VIII.  THE  LOG  TEMPLE  OF  JUSTICE  ....  106 

IX.  PAUL'S  FIRST  VISIT  TO  RUTH  ....  123 

X.  FATHER  ORIN  AND  TOBY  MEET  TOMMY  DYE  .  138 

XI.  THE  DANCE  IN  THE  FOREST     ....  151 

XII.  THE  EVE  OF  ALL  SOULS' 170 

XIII.  SEEING  WITH  DIFFERENT  EYES        .        .        .  183 

XIV.  A  SPIRITUAL  CENTAUR 196 

XV.  THE  WEB  THAT  SEEMED  TO  BE  WOVEN  .        .211 

XVI.  LOVE'S  TOUCHSTONE 228 

XVII.  THE  ONCOMING  OF  THE  STORM         .        .        .  237 

XVIII.  THE  GENTLEST  ARE  THE  BRAVEST  .        .        .  250 

XIX.  UNDER  THE  HUNTER'S  MOON    ....  259 

XX.  BALANCING  LIFE  AND  DEATH  ....  273 

XXI.  THE  EAGLE  IN  THE  DOVE'S  NEST    .        .        .  287 

XXII.  "A    COMET'S    GLARE    FORETOLD    THIS    SAD 

EVENT" 299 

XXIII.  LOVE  CLAIMS  HIS  OWN 311 

XXIV.  OLD  LOVE'S  STRIVING  WITH  YOUNG  LOVE      .  327 

XXV.  THE  PASSING  OF  PHILIP  ALSTON     .        .        .  338 

ix 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


PAGE 


"  The  Angelas  was  pealing  from  the  bell  of  the  little  log 

chapel" 4 

"  A  dark,  confused  .  .  .  writhing  mass  of  humanity  "       .  75 

" ' I  wanted  to  shake  the  hand  of  a  man  like  you '"  .        .  117 

Father  Orin  and  Toby 140 

"  For  she  also  was  riding  a  great  race "               .        .        .  260 

"  She  was  making  an  seolian  harp  " 288 


KOUND   ANVIL  ROCK 


THE    GIKL    AND     THE   BOY 

THE  Beautiful  River  grows  very  wide  in  mak- 
ing its  great  bend  around  western  Kentucky. 
On  the  other  side,  its  shores  are  low  for  many 
miles,  but  well  guarded  by  giant  cottonwoods. 
These  spectral  trees  stand  close  to  its  brink  and 
stretch  their  phantom  arms  far  over  its  broad 
waters,  as  if  perpetually  warding  off  the  vast 
floods  that  rush  down  from  the  north. 

But  the  floods  are  to  be  feared  only  in  the 
winter  or  spring,  never  in  the  summer  or  autumn. 
And  nearly  a  hundred  years  ago,  when  the  river's 
shores  were  bound  throughout  their  great  length 
by  primeval  forests,  there  was  less  reason  to  fear 
at  any  season.  So  that  on  a  day  of  October  in 
the  year  eighteen  hundred  and  eleven,  the  mighty 
stream  lay  safely  within  its  deep  bounds  flowing 
quietly  on  its  way  to  join  the  Father  of  Waters. 

So  gently  it  went  that  there  was  scarcely  a 
ripple  to  break  its  silvery  surface.  It  seemed 
indeed  hardly  to  move,  reflecting  the  shadowy 
cottonwoods  like  a  long,  clear,  curving  mirror 
which  was  dimmed  only  by  the  breath  of  the 


2  ROUND  ANVIL   ROCK 

approaching  dusk.  Out  in  the  current  beyond 
the  shadows  of  the  trees,  there  still  lingered  a 
faint  glimmer  of  the  afterglow's  pale  gold.  But 
the  red  glory  of  the  west  was  dying  behind  the 
whitening  cottonwoods  and  beyond  the  dense 
dark  forest  —  reaching  on  and  on  to  the  seeming 
end  of  the  earth — a  billowing  sea  of  ever  deep- 
ening green.  The  last  bright  gleam  of  golden 
light  was  passing  away  on  the  white  sail  of  a 
little  ship  which  was  just  turning  the  distant 
bend,  where  the  darkening  sky  bent  low  to  meet 
the  darkened  wilderness. 

The  night  was  creeping  from  the  woods  to 
the  waters  as  softly  as  the  wild  creatures  crept 
to  the  river's  brim  to  drink  before  sleeping. 
The  still  air  was  lightly  stirred  now  and  then 
by  rushing  wings,  as  the  myriad  paroquets  settled 
among  the  shadowy  branches.  The  soft  mur- 
muring of  the  reeds  that  fringed  the  shores  told 
where  the  water-fowl  had  already  found  resting- 
places.  The  swaying  of  the  cane-brakes  —  near 
and  far  —  signalled  the  secret  movements  of  the 
wingless  wild  things  which  had  only  stealth  to 
guard  them  against  the  cruelty  of  nature  and 
against  one  another.  The  heaviest  waves  of  cane 
near  the  great  Shawnee  Crossing  might  have  fol- 
lowed a  timid  red  deer.  For  the  Shawnees  had 
vanished  from  their  town  on  the  other  side  of  the 
Ohio.  Warriors  and  women  and  children  —  all 
were  suddenly  and  strangely  gone ;  there  was 
not  even  a  canoe  left  to  rock  among  the  rushes. 


THE   GIRL   AND   THE   BOY  3 

The  swifter,  rougher  waving  of  the  cane  farther 
off  may  have  been  in  the  wake  of  a  bold  gray 
wolf.  The  howling  of  wolves  came  from  the 
distance  with  the  occasional  gusts  of  wind,  and 
as  often  as  the  wolves  howled,  a  mysterious, 
melancholy  booming  sounded  from  the  deeper 
shadows  along  the  shores.  It  was  an  uneasy 
response  from  the  trumpeter  swans,  resting  like 
some  wonderful  silver-white  lilies  on  the  quiet 
bosom  of  the  dark  river. 

A  great  river  has  all  the  sea's  charm  and  much 
of  its  mystery  and  sadness.  The  boy  standing 
on  the  Kentucky  shore  was  under  this  spell  as 
he  listened  to  these  sounds  of  nature  at  nightfall 
on  the  Ohio,  and  watched  the  majestic  sweep  of 
its  waters  —  unfettered  and  unsullied  —  through 
the  boundless  and  unbroken  forests.  Yet  he 
turned  eagerly  to  listen  to  another  sound  that 
came  from  human-kind.  It  was  the  wild  music 
of  the  boatman's  horn  winding  its  way  back 
from  the  little  ship,  now  far  away  and  rounding 
the  dusky  bend.  Partly  flying  and  partly  float- 
ing, it  stole  softly  up  the  shadowed  river.  The 
melody  echoed  from  the  misty  Kentucky  hills, 
lingered  under  the  overhanging  trees,  rambled 
through  the  sighing  cane-brakes,  loitered  among 
the  murmuring  rushes  —  thus  growing  ever 
fainter,  sweeter,  wilder,  sadder,  as  it  came.  He 
did  not  know  why  this  sound  of  the  boatman's 
horn  always  touched  him  so  keenly  and  moved 
him  so  deeply.  He  could  not  have  told  why 


4  ROUND  ANVIL  ROCK 

his  eyes  grew  strangely  dim  as  he  heard  it  now, 
or  why  a  strange  tightening  came  around  his 
heart.  He  was  but  an  ignorant  lad  of  the  woods. 
It  was  not  for  him  to  know  that  these  few  notes 
—  so  few,  so  simple,  so  artlessly  blown  by  a 
rude  boatman  —  touched  the  deep  fountain  of 
the  soul,  loosing  the  mighty  torrent  pent  up  in 
every  human  breast.  Pity,  tenderness,  yearning, 
the  struggle  and  the  triumph  of  life,  —  the  boy 
felt  everything  and  all  unknowingly,  but  with 
quivering  sensibility.  For  he  was  not  merely 
an  ignorant  lad ;  he  was  also  one  of  those 
who  are  set  apart  throughout  their  lives  to  feel 
many  things  which  they  are  never  permitted  to 
comprehend. 

When  the  last  echo  of  the  boatman's  horn  had 
melted  among  the  darkling  hills,  he  turned  as  in- 
stinctively as  a  sun-worshipper  faces  the  east  and 
drank  in  another  musical  refrain.  The  Angelus 
was  pealing  faintly  from  the  bell  of  the  little 
log  chapel  far  up  the  river,  hidden  among  the 
trees.  The  faith  which  it  betokened  was  not 
his  own  faith,  nor  the  faith  of  those  with  whom 
he  lived,  but  the  beauty  and  sweetness  of  the 
token  appealed  to  him  none  the  less.  How 
beautiful,  how  sweet  it  was !  As  it  thus  came 
drifting  down  with  the  river's  deepening  shadows, 
he  thought  of  the  little  band  of  Sisters  —  angels 
of  charity  —  kneeling  under  that  rough  roof ; 
those  brave  gentlewomen  of  high  birth  and 
delicate  breeding  who  were  come  with  the  very 


THE   GIRL  AND   THE   BOY  5 

first  to  take  an  heroic  part  in  the  making  of 
Kentucky  and,  so  doing,  in  the  winning  of  the 
whole  West.  As  the  boy  thought  of  them  with 
a  swelling  heart,  —  for  they  had  been  kind  to 
him,  —  it  seemed  that  they  were  braver  than 
the  hunters,  more  courageous  than  the  soldiers. 
Listening  to  the  appeal  of  the  Angelus  steal- 
ing so  tenderly  through  the  twilight,  with  the 
strain  of  poetry  that  was  in  him  thrilling  in 
response,  he  felt  that  the  prayers  then  going  up 
must  fill  the  cruel  wilderness  with  holy  incense ; 
that  the  coming  of  these  gentle  Sisters  must 
subdue  the  very  wild  beasts,  as  the  presence  of 
the  lovely  martyrs  subdued  the  lions  of  old. 

"  Ah,  David  !  David  ! "  cried  a  gay  young  voice 
behind  him.  "  Dreaming  again  —  with  your  eyes 
wide  open.  And  seeing  visions,  too,  no  doubt." 

He  turned  with  a  guilty  start  and  looked  up 
at  Ruth.  She  was  standing  near  by  but  higher 
on  the  river  bank,  and  her  slender  white  form 
was  half  concealed  by  the  drooping  foliage  of 
a  young  willow  tree.  There  was  something 
about  Ruth  herself  that  always  made  him  think 
of  a  young  willow  with  every  graceful  wand 
in  bloom.  And  now  —  as  nearly  always  — 
there  was  a  flutter  of  soft  whiteness  about 
her,  for  the  day  was  as  warm  as  midsummer. 
He  could  not  have  told  what  it  was  that  she 
wore,  but  her  fluttering  white  garments  might 
have  been  woven  of  the  mists  training  over  the 
hills,  so  ethereal  they  looked,  seen  through  the 


6  ROUND  ANVIL   ROCK 

golden  green  of  the  delicate  willow  leaves  that 
were  still  gilded  by  the  afterglow  which  had 
vanished  from  the  shadowed  river.  Her  smiling 
face  could  not  have  been  more  radiant  had  the 
sunlight  shone  full  upon  it.  The  dusk  of  even- 
ing seemed  always  lingering  under  the  long 
curling  lashes  that  made  her  blue  eyes  so  dark, 
and  her  hair  was  as  black  at  midday  as  at  mid- 
night. So  that  now  —  when  she  shook  her  head 
at  the  boy  —  a  wonderful  long,  thick,  silky  lock 
escaped  its  fastenings,  and  the  wind  caught  it 
and  spun  it  like  silk  into  the  finest  blue-black 
floss. 

"  Yes,  sir,  you've  been  dreaming  again  !  You 
needn't  pretend  you  were  thinking  —  you  don't 
know  how  to  think.  Thinking  is  not  romantic 
enough.  I  have  been  here  watching  you  for  a  long 
time,  and  I  know  just  how  romantic  the  dreams 
are  that  you  have  been  dreaming.  I  could  tell  by 
the  way  you  turned,  —  this  way  and  that,  —  look- 
ing up  and  down  the  river.  It  always  bewitches 
you  when  the  sun  goes  and  the  shadows  come. 
I  knew  I  should  find  you  here,  just  like  this ; 
and  I  came  on  purpose  to  wake  and  scold  you." 

She  pretended  to  draw  her  pretty  brow  into  a 
frown,  but  she  could  not  help  smiling. 

"  Seriously,  dear,  you  must  stop  dreaming.  It 
is  a  dreadful  thing  to  be  a  dreamer  in  a  new 
country.  State  makers  should  all  be  wide-awake 
workers.  You  are  out  of  place  here;  as  Uncle 
Philip  Alston  says  —  " 


THE  GIRL  AND  THE   BOY  7 

«  Then  why  did  he  put  me  here  ? "  the  boy 
burst  out  bitterly. 

"  David  !  "  she  cried  in  wounded  reproach,  "how 
can  you  ?  It  hurts  me  to  hear  you  say  things 
like  that.  I  can't  bear  to  hear  any  one  say  any- 
thing against  him  —  I  love  him  so.  And  from 
you  —  who  owe  him  almost  as  much  as  I  do  —  " 

The  tears  were  very  near.  But  she  was  a 
little  angry,  too,  and  her  blue  eyes  flashed. 

"  No ;  no  one  owes  him  so  much — as  myself.  He 
couldn't  have  been  so  good  —  no  one  ever  could 
be  so  good  to  any  one  else  as  he  has  always  been 
to  me.  Still " —  softening  suddenly,  for  she  was 
fond  of  the  boy,  and  something  in  his  sensitive  face 
went  to  her  tender  heart  —  "  think,  David,  dear, 
we  owe  him  everything  we  have,  —  our  names, 
our  home,  our  clothes,  our  education,  our  very 
lives.  We  must  never  for  a  moment  forget  that 
it  was  he  who  found  us  all  alone  —  you  in  a 
cabin  on  the  Wilderness  Road  and  me  in  a  boat 
at  Duff's  Fort  —  and  brought  us  in  his  own  arms 
to  Cedar  House.  And  you  know  as  well  as  I  do 
that  he  would  have  given  us  a  home  in  his  own 
house  if  it  had  not  been  so  rough  and  bare  a 
place,  a  mere  camp.  And  then  there  was  no 
woman  in  it  to  take  care  of  us,  and  we  were  only 
little  mites  of  babies  —  poor,  crying,  helpless 
morsels  of  humanity.  Where  do  you  think  we 
came  from,  David  ?  I  wonder  and  wonder  and 
wonder ! "  wistfully,  with  her  gaze  on  the  dark- 
ening river. 


8  ROUND   ANVIL   ROCK 

It  was  an  old  question,  and  one  that  they  had 
been  asking  themselves  and  one  another  and  every 
one,  over  and  over,  ever  since  they  had  been  old 
enough  to  think.  The  short  story  which  Philip 
Alston  had  told  was  all  that  he  or  any  one  knew 
or  ever  was  to  know.  The  boy  silently  shook  his 
head.  The  girl  went  on  :  — 

"  Sometimes  I  am  sorry  that  we  couldn't  live 
in  his  house.  You  would  have  understood  him 
better  and  have  loved  him  more  —  as  he  deserves. 
It  is  only  that  you  don't  really  know  each  other," 
she  said  gently.  "And  then  I  should  like  to  do 
something  for  him  —  something  to  cheer  him  — 
who  does  everything  for  me.  It  must  be  very 
sad  to  be  alone  and  old.  It  grieves  me  to  see 
him  riding  away  to  that  desolate  cabin,  especially 
on  stormy  nights.  But  he  never  will  let  me 
come  to  his  house,  though  I  beg  and  beg.  He 
says  it  is  too  rough,  and  that  too  many  strange 
men  are  coming  and  going  on  business." 

"  Yes ;  too  many  strange  men  on  very  strange 
business." 

She  did  not  hear  or  notice  what  he  said,  be- 
cause the  sound  of  horses'  feet  echoing  behind 
them  just  at  that  moment  caused  her  to  turn 
her  head.  Two  horsemen  were  riding  along  the 
river  bank,  but  they  were  a  long  way  off  and 
about  turning  into  the  forest  path  as  her  gaze 
fell  upon  them.  She  stood  still,  silently  look- 
ing after  them  till  they  disappeared  among  the 
trees. 


THE   GIRL  AND   THE   BOY  9 

"  Father  Orin  and  Toby  will  get  home  before 
dark  to-night.  That  is  something  uncommon," 
she  said  with  a  smile. 

Toby  was  the  priest's  horse,  but  no  one  ever 
spoke  of  the  one  without  thinking  of  the  other ; 
and  then,  Toby's  was  a  distinct  and  widely  rec- 
ognized personality. 

"  But  who  is  the  stranger  with  them,  David  ? 
Oh,  I  remember  !  It  must  be  the  new  doctor,  — 
the  young  doctor  who  has  lately  come  and  who 
is  curing  the  Cold  Plague.  The  Sisters  told  me. 
They  said  that  he  and  Father  Orin  often  visited 
the  sick  together  and  were  already  great  friends. 
How  tall  he  is  —  even  taller  than  Father  Orin, 
and  broader  shouldered.  I  should  like  to  see  his 
face.  And  how  straight  he  sits  in  the  saddle. 
You  would  expect  a  man  who  holds  himself  so  to 
carry  a  lance  and  tilt  fearlessly  at  everything  that 
he  thought  was  wrong." 

She  turned,  quickly  tossing  the  willow  branches 
aside  and  laughing  gayly.  "There  now,  that 
will  set  you  off  thinking  of  your  knights  again ! 
But  you  must  not.  Truly,  you  must  not.  For 
it  is  quite  true,  dear ;  you  are  a  dreamer,  a  poet. 
You  do  indeed  belong  to  the  Arcadian  Hills.  You 
should  be  there  now,  playing  a  gentle  shepherd's 
pipe  and  herding  his  peaceful  flocks.  And  in- 
stead —  alas ! " —  she  looked  at  him  in  perplexity 
which  was  partly  real  and  partly  assumed  —  "  in- 
stead you  are  here  in  this  awful  wilderness,  carry- 
ing a  rifle  longer  and  heavier  than  yourself,  and 


10  ROUND   ANVIL  ROCK 

trying  to  pretend  that  you  like  to  kill  wild 
beasts,  or  can  endure  to  hurt  any  living  thing." 

David  said  nothing ;  there  seemed  to  be  no 
response  for  him  to  make.  When  a  well-grown 
youth  of  eighteen  or  thereabouts  is  spoken  to  by  a 
girl  near  his  own  age  as  he  had  just  been  spoken 
to  by  Ruth,  he  rarely  finds  anything  to  say.  No 
words  could  do  justice  to  what  he  feels.  And 
there  is  nothing  for  him  to  do  either,  unless  it 
be  to  take  refuge  in  a  dignified  silence  which 
disdains  the  slightest  notice  of  the  offence.  This 
was  what  David  resorted  to,  and,  bending  down, 
he  calmly  and  quietly  raised  his  forgotten  rifle 
from  the  ground  to  his  shoulder.  He  did  it  very 
slowly  and  impressively,  however,  in  the  hope 
that  Ruth  might  realize  the  fact  that  he  had 
killed  the  buck  whose  huge  horns  made  the  rifle's 
rest  on  his  cabin  walls.  But  she  saw  and  realized 
only  that  he  was  wounded,  and  instantly  darted 
toward  him  like  a  swallow.  She  caught  his  rigid 
rifle  arm  and  clung  to  it,  looking  up  in  his 
set  face.  Her  blue  eyes  were  already  filling  with 
tears  while  the  smile  was  still  on  her  lips.  That 
was  Ruth's  way  ;  her  smiles  and  tears  were  even 
closer  together  than  most  women's  are  ;  she  was 
nearly  always  quiveringly  poised  between  gayety 
and  sadness ;  like  a  living  sunbeam  continually 
glancing  across  life's  shadows. 

"What  is  it,  David,  dear?"  she  pleaded, 
with  her  sweet  lips  close  to  his  ear.  "What 
foolish  thing  have  I  said?  You  must  know 


THE  GIRL   AND   THE   BOY  11 

—  whatever  it  was  —  that  it  was  all  in  fun. 
Why,  I  wouldn't  have  you  different,  dear, 
if  I  could !  I  couldn't  love  you  so  much  if 
you  were  not  just  what  you  are.  And  yet," 
sighing,  "  it  might  be  better  for  you." 

She  laid  her  head  against  his  shoulder  and 
drew  closer  to  him  in  that  soft  little  nestling 
way  of  hers.  David  looked  straight  over  the 
lovely  head,  keeping  his  grim  gaze  as  high  as  he 
could.  He  knew  how  it  would  be  if  his  stern 
gray  eyes  were  to  meet  Ruth's  wet  blue  ones. 
He  was  still  a  boy,  but  trying  to  be  a  man  —  and 
beginning  to  understand.  No  man  with  his  heart 
in  the  right  place  could  hold  out  against  her  pretty 
coaxing.  It  was  sweet  enough  to  wile  the  very 
birds  out  of  the  trees.  It  made  no  difference 
that  he  had  been  used  to  her  wiles  from  baby- 
hood up.  To  be  used  to  Ruth's  ways  only  made 
them  harder  to  resist.  No  stranger  could  possi- 
bly have  foreseen  his  defeat  as  clearly  as  David 
foresaw  his  at  the  moment  that  she  started 
toward  him.  But  self-respect  required  him  to 
stand  firm  as  long  as  possible,  although  he  felt 
the  strength  going  out  of  his  rifle  arm  under  her 
clinging  touch.  She  felt  it  going,  too,  and  began 
to  smile  through  her  tears.  And  then,  sure  of 
her  victory,  she  threw  caution  to  the  winds  —  as 
older  and  wiser  women  have  done  too  openly  in 
vanquishing  stronger  and  more  masterful  men. 
She  let  him  see  that  she  knew  she  had  conquered, 
which  is  always  a  fatal  mistake  on  the  part  of  a 


12  ROUND   ANVIL   ROCK 

woman  toward  a  man.  Smiling  and  dimpling, 
she  put  up  her  hand  and  patted  his  cheek  —  pre- 
cisely as  if  he  had  been  a  child. 

The  boy  shrunk  as  if  the  caress  had  been  a 
touch  of  fire.  He  broke  away  and  strode  off  up 
the  hillside  with  his  longest,  manliest  stride. 
This  humiliation  was  past  bearing  or  forgiving. 
He  could  have  forgiven  being  called  a  dreamer  — 
a  useless  drone  —  among  the  men  of  clear  heads 
and  strong  hands  who  had  already  wrested  a 
great  state  from  the  wilderness,  and  who, 
through  this  conquest,  were  destined  to  become 
the  immortal  founders  of  the  Empire  of  the 
West.  He  could  have  overlooked  being  spoken 
to  like  a  child  by  a  girl  who  might  be  younger 
than  himself  for  all  he  or  she  knew  to 
the  contrary  —  though  this  would  have  been 
harder.  He  might  even  have  forgiven  that  pat 
on  his  cheek  which  was  downy  with  beard,  had 
he  been  either  younger  or  older.  But  as  it  was 
—  well,  the  matter  may  safely  be  left  to  the 
sympathy  of  the  man  who  remembers  the  most 
sensitive  time  of  his  own  youth ;  that  trying 
period  when  he  feels  himself  to  be  no  longer  a 
boy  and  nobody  else  considers  him  a  man. 

David  did  not  know  where  he  was  going  or 
what  he  meant  to  do.  He  was  blindly  striding 
up  the  river  bank  away  from  Ruth,  fairly  aflame 
with  the  determination  to  do  something  —  any- 
thing—  to  prove  his  manhood.  For  nothing 
ever  makes  a  boy  resolve  quite  so  suddenly  and 


THE  GIRL  AND  THE   BOY  13 

firmly  to  become  a  man  instantly  as  to  be  treated 
by  a  girl  as  he  had  been  by  Ruth.  Had  the  most 
desperate  danger  then  come  in  David's  way,  he 
would  have  hailed  and  hazarded  it  with  delight. 
But  he  could  not  think  of  anything  to  overwhelm 
her  with  just  at  that  moment,  and  so  he  could 
only  stride  on  in  helpless,  angry  silence.  Ruth 
flew  after  him  as  if  her  thin  white  skirts  had 
been  strong,  swift  wings.  She  overtook  him 
before  he  had  gone  very  far,  and  clung  to  him 
again  more  than  ever  like  some  beautiful  white 
spirit  of  the  woods  wreathed  in  mist,  with  her 
soft  blown  garments  and  her  softer  blown  hair. 
She  merely  wound  herself  around  him  at  first, 
breathless  and  panting.  But  as  soon  as  she 
caught  her  breath  the  coaxing,  the  laughing,  and 
the  crying  came  all  together.  David  kept  from 
looking  down  as  long  as  he  could,  but  his  pace 
slackened  and  his  arm  again  relaxed.  Finally  — 
taken  off  guard  —  he  glanced  at  the  face  so  near 
his  breast.  The  dusk  could  not  dim  its  beauty 
and  only  made  it  more  lovely.  No  more  resistance 
was  possible  for  him  —  or  for  any  man  or  boy  — 
who  saw  Ruth  as  she  looked  then.  David's  big 
rough  hand  was  now  surrendered  meekly  enough 
to  the  quick  clasp  of  her  little  fingers,  and  — 
forgetting  all  the  daring  deeds  that  he  meant 
to  do  —  he  was  led  like  any  lamb  up  the  hill  to 
the  open  door  of  Cedar  House. 


II 

THE    HOUSE    OF    CEDAR 

So  far  as  they  knew,  there  was  no  tie  of  blood 
or  relationship  binding  them  to  the  kind  people 
of  Cedar  House.  Yet  it  was  the  only  home  that 
they  could  remember  and  very  dear  to  them  both. 

It  was  a  great  square  of  rough,  dark  logs,  and 
seemed  now,  seen  through  the  uncertain  light, 
to  stand  in  the  centre  of  a  shadowy  hamlet,  so 
many  smaller  cabins  were  clustered  around  it. 
The  custom  of  the  country  was  to  add  cabin 
after  cabin  as  the  family  outgrew  the  original 
log  house.  The  instinct  of  safety,  the  love  of 
kindred,  and  the  longing  for  society  in  the  peril- 
ous loneliness  of  the  wilderness  held  these  first 
Kentuckians  very  close  together.  So  that  as 
their  own  villages  thus  grew  around  them  and 
only  their  own  dwelt  near  them,  they  naturally 
became  as  clannish  as  their  descendants  have 
been  ever  since. 

The  cabin  nearest  Cedar  House  contained  two 
rooms,  and  was  used  by  its  master,  Judge  Knox, 
for  his  own  bedroom  and  law  office.  There  was 
a  still  larger  cabin  somewhat  more  distant  from 
the  main  building,  which  was  intended  for  the 

14 


THE  HOUSE   OF   CEDAR  15 

use  of  his  nephew,  William  Pressley,  on  the  mar- 
riage of  that  young  lawyer  to  Ruth.  But  the 
wedding  was  some  time  off  yet,  having  been  set 
for  Christmas  Eve,  and  the  cabin  which  was  to 
welcome  the  bride  from  Cedar  House  was  not 
quite  complete.  The  smallest  and  the  oldest 
cabin  was  David's.  The  long  black  line  of 
cabins  crouching  under  the  hillside  where  the 
shadows  were  deepest,  marked  the  quarters  of 
the  slaves,  —  a  dark  storm-cloud  already  settling 
heavily  on  the  fair  horizon  of  the  new  state. 

Cedar  House  itself  was  the  grandest  of  its 
time  in  all  that  country.  Built  entirely  of  huge 
red  cedar  logs  it  was  two  stories  in  height,  the 
first  house  of  more  than  one  story  standing  on 
the  shores  of  the  southern  Ohio.  Its  roof  was 
the  wonder  and  envy  of  the  whole  region  for 
many  years.  The  shingles  were  of  black  wal- 
nut, elegantly  rounded  at  the  butt-ends.  They 
were  fastened  on  with  solid  walnut  pegs  driven 
in  holes  bored  through  both  the  shingles  and  the 
laths  with  a  brace  and  a  bit.  For  there  was  not 
a  nail  in  Cedar  House  from  its  firm  foundation 
to  its  fine  roof.  Even  the  hinges  and  the  latch 
of  the  wide  front  door  were  made  of  wood.  The 
judge  often  mentioned  this  fact  with  much 
pride,  and  never  failed  to  add  that  the  leathern 
latch-string  always  hung  outside.  But  he  was 
still  prouder  of  the  massive,  towering  chimney 
of  Cedar  House,  and  with  good  reason.  The 
other  houses  thinly  scattered  through  the  wilder- 


16  ROUND  ANVIL  ROCK 

ness  had  humble  chimneys  of  sticks  covered  with 
clay.  The  chimney  of  Cedar  House  was  of  rough 
stone  —  of  one  hundred  wagon  loads,  as  the 
judge  boasted  —  which  had  been  hauled  with 
great  difficulty  over^  a  long  distance,  because 
there  was  none  near  by. 

On  the  wide  hearth  of  this  great  chimney  a 
fire  was  always  burning.  No  matter  what  the 
season  or  the  weather  might  be,  there  was  always 
a  solemn  ceremony  around  the  hearth  when  the 
fire  was  renewed,  at  the  beginning  and  the  close 
of  every  day  all  the  year  round.  In  winter 
it  was  a  glorious  bonfire  consuming  great  logs. 
In  summer  it  was  the  merest  glimmer  that  could 
hold  a  flickering  spark.  Between  winter  and 
summer,  as  on  this  mild  October  evening,  a 
bright  flame  sometimes  danced  gayly  behind  the 
big  brass  andirons,  while  all  the  windows  and 
doors  were  wide  open.  But  through  cold  and 
heat,  and  burning  high  or  low,  the  fire  was 
never  entirely  forgotten,  never  quite  permitted 
to  go  out.  Thus  ever  alight  it  burned  like  a 
sacred  flame  on  the  altar  of  home. 

Streaming  from  the  doors  and  windows  that 
night,  it  gave  the  youth  and  the  maiden  a  cheer- 
ful welcome  as  they  came  up  the  darkening  hill- 
side. Lamplight  also  began  to  glimmer,  and 
candles  flitted  here  and  there  before  the  win- 
dows and  door,  borne  by  the  dark  shapes  of  the 
servants  who  were  laying  the  table  for  supper. 
The  main  room  of  Cedar  House  opened  directly 


THE   HOUSE  OF   CEDAR  17 

upon  the  river  front ;  and  when  brightly  lighted,  it 
could  be  distinctly  seen  from  without.  Ruth  and 
David  paused  on  the  threshold,  still  unconsciously 
holding  one  another's  hands,  and  looked  in. 

There  were  five  persons  in  the  room,  three 
men  and  two  women,  and  they  were  all  mem- 
bers of  the  household  with  the  exception  of 
Philip  Alston,  the  white-haired  gentleman,  whose 
appearance  bore  no  other  mark  of  age.  And  he 
also  might  have  been  considered  as  one  of  the 
family,  since  he  had  been  coming  to  the  house 
daily  for  many  years.  He  came  usually  to  see 
Ruth,  but  of  late  he  had  found  it  necessary 
to  see  William  Pressley  more  often ;  and  they 
were  talking  eagerly  and  in  a  low  tone,  rather 
apart,  when  the  boy  and  girl  paused  to  see 
and  hear  what  was  taking  place  within  the 
great  room.  William  Pressley  sat  in  the  easiest 
chair  in  the  warmest  corner,  close  to  the  hearth. 
There  are  some  men  —  and  a  few  women  —  who 
always  take  the  softest  seat  in  the  best  place, 
and  they  do  it  so  naturally  that  no  one  ever 
thinks  of  their  doing  anything  else  or  expects 
them  to  sit  elsewhere.  William  Pressley  was 
one  of  these  persons.  In  the  next  easiest  chair, 
on  the  other  side  of  the  hearth,  was  his  aunt,  the 
widow  Broadnax,  whose  short,  broad,  shape- 
less, inert  figure  was  lying  rather  than  sitting 
almost  buried  in  a  heap  of  cushions.  This  lady 
was  the  sister  of  the  judge  and  the  half-sister  of 
the  other  lady,  Miss  Penelope  Knox,  —  the  thin, 


18  ROUND  ANVIL   ROCK 

nervous,  restless  little  old  woman,  —  who  was 
fidgeting  back  and  forth  between  the  hearth  and 
the  doorway  leading  to  the  distant  kitchen.  The 
relationship  of  these  two  ladies  to  one  another, 
and  the  difference  in  their  relationship  to  the  head 
of  Cedar  House,  caused  much  dissension  in  the 
household,  and  gave  rise  to  certain  domestic  com- 
plications which  always  rose  when  least  expected. 
The  fire  had  been  freshly  kindled  with  small 
twigs  of  the  sugar  maple,  that  priceless  tree 
often  standing  fifty  to  an  acre  in  the  wilderness, 
and  giving  the  pioneers  their  best  fire-wood,  their 
coolest  shade,  and  their  sweetest  food.  Vivid  blue 
sparks  were  still  flashing  among  the  little  white 
stars  of  the  gray  moss  on  the  big  backlog.  From 
the  blazing  ends  of  the  log  there  came  the  soft, 
airy  music  and  the  faint,  sweet  scent  of  bubbling 
sap.  This  main  room  of  Cedar  House  was  very 
large,  almost  vast,  taking  up  the  whole  lower 
floor.  It  was  the  dining  room  as  well  as  the 
sitting  room ;  and  when  some  grand  occasion 
arose,  it  served  even  as  a  drawing-room,  and  did 
it  handsomely,  too.  This  great  room  of  Cedar 
House  always  reminded  David  of  the  ancient 
halls  in  « The  Famous  History  of  Montilion,"  a 
romance  of  chivalry  from  which  most  of  his 
ideas  of  life  were  taken,  and  upon  which  most 
of  his  ideals  of  living  were  formed.  Surely,  he 
thought,  the  castle  of  the  «  Knight  of  the  Oracle  " 
could  not  be  grander  than  this  great  room  of 
Cedar  House. 


THE   HOUSE   OF   CEDAR  19 

The  rich  dark  wood  of  its  walls  and  floor  —  all 
rudely  smoothed  with  the  broadaxe  and  the  whip- 
saw  —  hung  overhead  in  massive  beams.  From 
these  low,  blackened  timbers  there  swung  many 
antique  lamps,  splendid  enough  for  a  palace  and 
strangely  out  of  place  in  a  log  house  of  the  wil- 
derness. On  the  rough  walls  there  were  also 
large  sconces  of  burnished  silver  but  poorly 
filled  with  tallow  candles.  In  the  bare  spaces 
between  these  silver  sconces  were  the  heads  of 
wild  animals  mingled  with  many  rifles,  both  old 
and  new,  and  other  arms  of  the  hunter.  Over 
the  tall  mantelpiece  there  were  crossed  two  un- 
tarnished swords  which  had  been  worn  by  the 
judge's  father  in  the  Revolution.  On  the  red 
cedar  of  the  floor,  polished  by  wear  and  rubbing, 
there  lay  the  skins  of  wild  beasts,  together  with 
costly  foreign  rugs.  The  same  strange  mixture 
of  rudeness  and  refinement  was  to  be  seen  every- 
where throughout  the  room.  The  table  standing 
in  the  centre  of  the  floor,  ready  for  the  evening 
meal,  was  made  of  unplaned  boards,  rudely  put 
together  by  the  unskilled  hands  of  the  back- 
woods. Yet  it  was  set  with  the  finest  china,  the 
rarest  glass,  and  the  richest  silver  that  the  great- 
est skill  of  the  old  world  could  supply.  The 
chairs  placed  around  the  table  were  made  of 
unpainted  wood  from  the  forest,  with  seats 
woven  out  of  the  coarse  rushes  from  the  river. 
And  there,  between  the  front  windows,  stood 
Ruth's  piano,  the  first  in  that  part  of  the  wilder- 


20  ROUND   ANVIL   ROCK 

ness,  and  as  fine  as  the  finest  of  its  day  any- 
where. 

It  is  true  that  something  like  the  same  con- 
fusion of  luxury  and  wildness  was  becoming 
more  or  less  common  throughout  the  country. 
The  wain  trains  which  had  lately  followed 
the  packhorse  trains  over  the  Alleghanies  — 
with  the  widening  of  the  Wilderness  Road  — 
were  already  bringing  many  comforts  and  even 
luxuries  to  the  cabins  of  the  well-to-do  settlers. 
But  nothing  like  those  which  were  fetched 
constantly  to  Cedar  House  ever  came  to  any 
other  household ;  and  it  was  not  the  family 
who  caused  them  to  be  brought  there.  For 
while  the  judge  was  a  man  of  wealth  for  his 
time  and  place,  and  able  to  give  his  family 
greater  comfort  than  his  poorer  neighbors  could 
afford,  he  was  far  from  having  the  means,  much 
less  the  taste  and  culture,  to  gather  such  costly, 
beautiful,  and  rare  things  as  were  gathered  to- 
gether in  Cedar  House.  It  was  through  Philip 
Alston  that  everything  of  this  kind  had  come. 
It  was  he  who  had  chosen  everything  and  paid 
for  it,  and  ordered  it  fetched  over  the  mountains 
from  Virginia  or  up  the  river  from  France  or 
Spain  — all  as  gifts  from  him  to  Ruth.  It 
was  natural  enough  that  he  should  give  her 
whatever  he  wished  her  to  have,  and  there  was 
no  reason  why  she  should  not  accept  any  and 
everything  that  he  gave.  She  was  held  by  him 
and  by  every  one  as  his  adopted  daughter.  He 


THE   HOUSE  OF  CEDAR  21 

had  no  children  of  his  own,  no  relations  of  any 
degree  so  far  as  any  one  knew,  and  he  was  known 
to  be  generous  and  believed  to  be  very  rich.  In- 
deed no  one  thought  much  about  his  gifts  to 
Ruth ;  they  had  long  since  become  a  matter  of 
course,  a  part  of  the  everyday  life  of  Cedar 
House.  They  had  begun  with  Ruth's  coming 
more  than  seventeen  years  before.  As  a  baby 
she  had  been  rocked  in  a  cradle  such  as  never 
before  had  been  seen  in  the  wilderness,  —  a  very 
gem  of  wonderful  carving  and  inlaid  work  from 
Spain.  As  a  little  child  she  had  been  dressed  — 
as  no  little  one  of  the  wild  wood  ever  had  been 
before  —  in  the  finest  fabrics  and  the  daintiest 
needlework  from  the  looms  and  convents  of 
France.  Very  strange  things  may  become  famil- 
iar through  use.  The  simple  people  of  Cedar 
House  and  their  rude  neighbors  were  well  used 
to  all  this.  They  had  seen  the  beautiful  blue- 
eyed  baby  grow  to  be  a  more  beautiful  child, 
and  the  child  to  a  most  beautiful  maiden,  and 
always  surrounded  by  the  greatest  refinement 
and  luxury  that  love  and  means  could  bring 
into  the  wilderness.  Naturally  enough  they 
now  found  nothing  to  wonder  at,  in  the  daily 
presence  of  this  radiant  young  figure  among 
them. 

It  was  only  for  an  instant  that  the  girl  and 
boy  stood  thus  unseen  on  the  threshold  of  Cedar 
House,  looking  into  the  great  room.  Philip 
Alston  saw  them  almost  at  once.  He  had  been 


22  ROUND   ANVIL   ROCK 

watching  and  waiting  for  Ruth,  as  he  always 
was  when  she  was  out  of  his  sight  even  for  a 
moment.  He  sprang  up,  quickly  and  alertly,  like 
a  strong  young  man,  and  went  to  meet  her  with 
his  gallant  air.  She  held  up  her  cheek  smilingly  ; 
he  bent  and  kissed  it,  and  taking  her  hand  with 
his  grand  bow,  led  her  across  the  room.  The 
judge  and  his  nephew  also  arose,  as  they  always 
did  when  she  came  in  or  went  out.  The  judge 
did  this  unconsciously,  without  thinking,  and 
scarcely  knowing  that  he  did  do  it;  for  he  was 
a  plain  man,  rather  awkward  and  very  absent- 
minded,  and  deeply  absorbed  in  the  study  of  his 
profession.  William  Pressley  did  it  with  deliber- 
ate intention  and  self-consciousness,  as  he  did  every- 
thing that  he  deemed  fitting.  It  was  his  nature 
to  give  grave  thought  to  the  least  thing  that  he 
said  or  did.  It  was  his  sincere  conviction  that 
the  smallest  matter  affecting  himself  was  of  in- 
finitely greater  importance  than  the  greatest  that 
could  possibly  concern  any  one  else.  There  are 
plenty  of  people  who  believe  this  as  sincerely  as 
he  believed  it,  but  there  are  few  who  show  the 
belief  with  his  candor.  When  he  now  stood  up 
to  place  a  chair  for  Ruth  beside  his  own,  he  did 
the  simple  service  as  if  the  critical  eyes  of  the 
world  had  been  upon  him.  And  his  manner 
was  so  consciously  correct  that  no  one  observed 
that  the  chair  which  he  gave  her  was  not  so  com- 
fortable as  his  own.  He  was  uncommonly  good- 
looking,  also,  and  tall  and  shapely,  yet  there  was 


THE   HOUSE   OF   CEDAR  23 

something  about  his  full  figure  —  that  vague, 
indescribable  something  —  which  unmistakably 
marks  -the  lack  of  virility  in  mind  or  body, 
no  matter  how  large  or  handsome  a  man  may 
be.  He  stood  for  a  moment  after  Ruth  was 
seated,  and  then,  seeing  that  Philip  Alston  was 
about  to  lift  a  candle-stand  which  was  heaped 
with  parcels,  he  went  to  aid  him,  and  the  two 
men  together  set  the  little  table  before  her.  She 
looked  at  it  with  soft,  excited  cries  of  surprise 
and  delight,  instantly  divining  that  the  unopened 
parcels  and  sealed  boxes  contained  more  of  the 
gifts  which  her  foster-father  was  constantly  lav- 
ishing upon  her.  He  smiled  down  at  her  beam- 
ing face  and  dancing  eyes,  and  then  taking  out 
his  pocket-knife  he  cut  the  cords  and  removed 
the  covers  of  the  boxes.  As  the  wrappings  fell 
away,  there  was  a  shimmer  of  dazzling  tissues, 
silver  and  gold. 

"  Oh  !  oh  !  "  she  cried. 

"  Just  a  few  pretty  trifles,  my  dear,"  he  said. 
«  You  like  them  ?  " 

"  Like  them  !  " 

Repeating  his  words  she  sprang  up,  and  run- 
ning round  the  candle-stand,  stood  on  the  very 
tips  of  her  toes  so  that  she  might  throw  her  arms 
about  his  neck.  He  bent  his  head  to  meet  her 
upturned  face,  and  if  ever  tenderness  shone  in 
a  man's  pale,  grave  face,  it  shone  then  in  his.  If 
ever  love  —  pure  and  unselfish  —  beamed  from 
a  man's  eyes,  it  was  beaming  now  from  those 


24  ROUND   ANVIL  ROCK 

looking  down  in  the  girl's  face.  His  tender  gaze 
followed  her  fondly  as  she  went  back  to  the 
candle-stand  and  began  to  examine  each  article 
again  more  than  once  and  with  lingering  and 
growing  delight.  She  found  new  beauties  every 
moment,  and  pointed  them  out  to  the  three  men 
and  the  boy  who  were  now  gathered  around  her. 
She  called  the  ladies  also,  over  and  over,  but  they 
did  not  come,  although  they  cast  many  glances 
at  the  candle-stand. 

Miss  Penelope  was  engaged  in  making  the 
coffee  for  supper ;  and  while  she  did  not  consider 
the  making  of  the  coffee  for  supper  quite  so  vital 
a  matter  as  the  making  of  the  coffee  for  break- 
fast, she  still  could  not  think  of  leaving  the 
hearth  under  any  inducement  so  long  as  the 
coffee-pot  sat  on  its  trivet  above  the  glowing  coals. 
The  widow  Broadnax  stirred  among  her  cushions 
once  or  twice,  as  if  almost  on  the  point  of  trying 
to  get  out  of  her  chair.  She  was  fonder  of  finery 
than  her  half-sister  was,  and  she  would  have 
liked  very  much  to  see  these  beautiful  things 
nearer.  But  she  was  still  fonder  of  her  own 
ease  than  of  finery,  and  it  was  really  a  great  deal 
of  trouble  to  get  out  of  her  deep,  broad  low  chair. 
And  then  she  never  moved  or  took  her  eyes  off 
her  half-sister  while  that  energetic  lady  was 
engaged  in  making  the  coffee. 

Knowing  the  ladies'  ways,  Ruth  did  not  expect 
them  to  come.  She  was  quite  satisfied  to  have 
the  men  share  her  pleasure  in  the  presents. 


THE   HOUSE  OF   CEDAR  25 

They  were  looking  at  her  and  not  at  the  gifts 
lying  heaped  on  the  candle-stand,  but  she  did  not 
notice  that.  She  gave  the  judge  a  priceless 
piece  of  lace  to  hold.  He  took  it  with  the  awk- 
ward, helpless  embarrassment  of  a  manly  man 
handling  a  woman's  delicate  belongings,  —  the 
awkwardness  that  goes  straight  to  a  woman's 
heart,  because  she  sees  and  feels  its  true  rever- 
ence —  a  reverence  just  as  plain  and  just  as  sweet 
to  the  simplest  country  girl  as  to  the  wisest 
woman  of  the  world.  The  perception  of  it  is  a 
matter  of  intuition,  not  one  of  experience.  The 
least  experienced  woman  instantly  distrusts  the 
man  who  can  touch  her  garments  with  ease  or 
composure.  Ruth's  gay  young  voice  broke  into 
a  sweet  chime  of  delighted  laughter  when  the 
judge  seized  the  airy  bit  of  lace  as  if  it  had 
been  the  heaviest  and  hottest  of  crowbars.  She 
laughed  again  when  she  looked  at  his  face.  He 
had  an  odd  trick  of  lifting  one  of  his  eyebrows 
very  high  and  at  an  acute  angle  when  perplexed 
or  ill  at  ease.  This  eccentric  left  eyebrow  — 
now  quite  wedge-shaped  —  had  gone  up  almost 
to  the  edge  of  his  tousled  gray  hair.  Ruth 
patted  his  great  clumsy  hands  with  her  little 
deft  ones. 

"Well,  I'll  have  to  take  to  the  woods,  if 
there's  no  other  way  of  escape,"  said  the  judge, 
making  his  greatest  threat. 

"  You  dear ! "  she  said,  running  her  arm 
through  his  and  giving  it  a  little  squeeze. 


26  ROUND   ANVIL   ROCK 

"  That's  right.  Hold  it  tight  —  be  careful,  or 
it  will  break.  Here,  William,"  piling  the 
young  man's  arms  full  of  delicately  tinted  gauze, 
"  this  is  a  sunset  cloud.  And  these, "  casting 
lengths  of  exquisite  tissue  over  the  boy's  shoul- 
der, "  these  are  the  mists  of  the  dawn,  David,  — 
all  silvery  white  and  golden  rose  and  jewelled 
blue.  But  —  oh  !  oh  !  —  these  are  the  loveliest  of 
all !  A  pair  of  slippers  in  orange-blossom  kid, 
spangled  with  silver !  Look  at  them !  Just 
look,  everybody ! " 

Holding  them  in  her  hand  she  ran  round  the 
table  again  to  throw  her  arms  about  Philip  Al- 
ston's neck  the  second  time,  like  a  happy,  excited 
child.  The  little  white  slippers  went  up  with 
her  arms  and  touched  his  cheek.  And  then  he 
drew  them  down,  and  clasping  her  slender  wrists, 
held  her  out  before  him  and  looked  at  her  with 
fond,  smiling  eyes. 

"I  don't  believe  that  the  Empress  Josephine 
has  any  prettier  slippers  than  those,"  he  said. 
"  I  ordered  the  prettiest  and  the  finest  in  Paris." 

"  Who  fetched  all  these  things  ?  "  the  judge 
broke  in,  with  something  like  a  sudden  reali- 
zation of  the  number  and  the  value  of  the 
gifts. 

"  Oh,  a  friend  of  mine,"  responded  Philip  Al- 
ston, carelessly,  and  without  turning  his  head, — 
"  a  friend  who  has  many  ships  constantly  going 
and  coming  between  New  Orleans  and  France. 
He  orders  anything  I  wish ;  and  when  it  comes 


THE   HOUSE  OF   CEDAR  27 

to  him,  he  sends  it  on  to  me  by  the  first  flatboat 
cordelled  up  the  river." 

"  What  is  his  name  ?  "  asked  the  judge,  with 
a  persistence  very  uncommon  in  him. 

Philip  Alston  turned  now  and  glanced  at  him 
with  an  easy,  almost  bantering  smile. 

"  I  don't  like  to  tell  you  his  name,  because  you 

—  with  a  good  many  other   honestly  mistaken 
people  —  are  most  unjustly  prejudiced   against 
him.     And  then  you  know  well  enough  that  I 
am  speaking  of  my  respected  and  trusted  friend, 
Monsieur  Jean  Lafitte." 

The  judge  dropped  the  lace  as  if  it  had  burnt 
his  hand.  He  went  back  to  his  seat  by  the 
window  in  silence.  He  sat  down  heavily  and 
looked  at  Philip  Alston  in  perplexity,  rubbing 
his  great  shock  of  rough  grizzled  hair  the  wrong 
way  as  he  always  did  when  worried.  His 
thoughts  were  plainly  to  be  read  on  his  open, 
rugged  face.  This  liking  of  Philip  Alston's  for 
a  man  under  a  national  ban  was  an  old  subject 
of  worry  and  perplexity.  Yet  Alston  was  always 
as  frank  and  as  firm  about  it  as  he  had  been  just 
now,  and  the  judge's  confidence  in  him  was  ab- 
solute. Robert  Knox's  own  character  must  have 
changed  greatly  before  he  could  have  doubted  the 
sincerity  of  any  one  whom  he  had  known  as  long, 
as  intimately,  and  as  favorably  as  he  had  known 
Philip  Alston.  We  all  judge  others  by  ourselves, 

—  whether  we  do  it  consciously  or  not,  —  since 
we  have   no   other  way  of   judging.     And    the 


28  ROUND  ANVIL  ROCK 

judge  himself  was  so  simple,  so  sincere,  so  essen- 
tially honest,  that  he  could  not  doubt  one  who 
was  in  a  way  a  member  of  his  own  family. 
And  then  he  was  absent-minded,  unobservant, 
easy-going,  indolent,  and  the  slave  of  habit,  as 
such  a  nature  is  apt  to  be.  Moreover,  he  was 
not  always  master  of  the  slight  power  of  obser- 
vation which  had  been  given  him.  That  very 
day,  while  on  his  way  home  from  the  court- 
house, he  had  stopped  at  a  cabin  where  liquor 
was  sold.  As  a  consequence,  this  sudden  touch 
of  uneasiness  which  aroused  him  for  an  instant 
was  forgotten  nearly  as  suddenly  as  it  came.  So 
that  after  looking  bewilderedly  at  Philip  Alston 
once  or  twice,  he  now  began  to  nod  and  doze. 


Ill 

"PHILIP    ALSTON,    GENTLEMAN*' 

PHILIP  ALSTON  still  stood  before  the  candle- 
stand.  His  gaze  rested  on  the  girl's  radiant  face 
with  wistful  tenderness.  It  was  plain  that  he 
thought  nothing  of  all  these  rich,  rare  gifts 
which  he  had  given  her,  save  only  as  they  gave 
her  pleasure  and  might  win  from  her  another 
loving  look,  another  butterfly  kiss  on  his  cheek. 

As  he  stood  there  that  night  in  the  great  room 
of  Cedar  House,  before  the  firelight  and  under 
the  beams  of  the  swinging  lamps,  he  scarcely 
appeared  to  need  the  help  of  any  gift  in  win- 
ning a  woman's  love.  His  was  a  presence  to 
hold  the  gaze.  He  was  very  tall  and  straight 
and  slender,  yet  most  finely  proportioned.  The 
heavy  hair,  falling  back  from  his  handsome  face 
and  tied  in  a  queue,  must  once  have  been  as  black 
as  Ruth's  own  ;  surely,  no  paler  shade  could  have 
become  so  silvery  white.  His  eyes,  also,  were  as 
blue  as  hers,  and  none  could  have  been  bluer.  His 
skin  was  almost  as  fair  and  smooth  as  hers,  his 
manner  as  gentle  and  kind,  his  voice  as  soft  and 
his  smile  as  sweet.  He  was  elegantly  dressed,  as 
he  always  was,  his  fine  long  coat  of  forest  green 

29 


30  ROUND  ANVIL  ROCK 

broadcloth  had  a  wide  velvet  collar  and  large 
gold  buttons.  His  velvet  knee-breeches  and 
the  wide  riband  which  tied  his  queue  were  of 
the  same  rich  shade  of  dark  green.  The  most 
delicate  ruffles  filled  the  front  of  his  swan's- 
down  vest  and  fell  over  his  hands,  which  were 
remarkably  white  and  small  and  taper-fingered, 
like  a  fine  lady's.  His  white  silk  stockings  and 
his  low  shoes  were  held  by  silver  buckles.  So 
looked  Philip  Alston,  Gentleman, — and  so  he  was 
called,  —  as  he  stood  in  the  great  room  of  Cedar 
House  on  that  night  of  October,  nearly  a  hundred 
years  ago.  And  thus  he  is  described  in  the  few 
rare  old  histories  which  touch  the  romance  of  this 
region  when  he  ruled  it  like  a  king,  by  the  power 
of  his  intelligence  and  the  might  of  his  will. 

He  was  foremost  in  the  politics  of  the  time  as 
in  everything  else,  and  he  and  William  Pressley 
had  been  discussing  this  subject  at  the  moment 
of  Ruth's  appearance,  which  had  interrupted 
their  conversation.  Philip  Alston  had  forgotten 
the.  unfinished  topic,  but  William  Pressley  had 
not.  He,  also,  had  been  pleased  to  look  on  for 
a  while  at  the  girl's  radiant  delight ;  and  he, 
also,  had  enjoyed  the  charming  scene.  But 
there  was  a  lull  now,  and  he  at  once  turned 
back  to  the  matter  in  which  he  was  most  deeply 
interested.  Ambition  for  political  preferment  was 
the  theme  which  most  absorbed  his  mind,  and 
ambition  was  the  one  thing  which  could  always 
light  a  spark  of  fire  in  his  cold,  hard,  shallow 


"PHILIP  ALSTON,   GENTLEMAN"  31 

hazel  eyes.  This  was  not  for  the  reason  that 
he  cared  especially  for  politics  in  itself,  which 
he  did  not.  But  he  turned  to  it  in  preference 
to  warfare,  since  the  choice  of  the  ambitious 
young  men  of  the  wilderness  lay  between  the 
two.  Politics  seemed  to  him  to  open  the  sur- 
est and  shortest  road  to  the  prominence  which 
he  craved  above  everything  else.  He  was  one  of 
those  unfortunates  who  can  never  be  happy  on  a 
level  —  even  with  the  highest  —  and  who  must 
look  down  in  order  to  be  at  all  content  with  life. 
Yet  with  this  overweening  and  insatiable  craving 
for  distinction  and  prominence,  he  had  been  given 
no  talent  by  which  distinction  may  be  won ;  had 
been  granted  no  quality,  mental,  moral,  or  physi- 
cal, by  which  he  might  rise  above  the  mass  of 
his  fellows.  It  was  a  cruel  trick  for  Nature  to 
play,  and  one  that  she  plays  far  too  often.  The 
sufferers  from  it  are  certainly  far  more  to  be 
pitied  than  blamed,  and  it  is  harmful  only  to  the 
afflicted  themselves,  so  long  as  it  meets,  or  still 
expects,  a  measure  of  gratification.  When  they 
are  permitted  to  reach  any  height  from  which  to 
look  down,  the  terrible  craving  appears  to  be  tem- 
porarily appeased ;  and  they  become  kind,  and 
even  generous,  to  all  who  look  up  with  willing, 
unwandering  gaze.  It  is  only  when  the  sufferers 
fail  to  reach  any  height,  or  when  they  lose  what 
little  they  may  have  attained,  or  when  the  gaze  of 
the  world  wanders,  that  they  become  hard,  sour, 
bitter,  and  merciless  toward  all  who  have  sue- 


32  ROUND  ANVIL  ROCK 

ceeded  where  they  have  failed.  The  only  mercy 
that  Nature  has  shown  them  in  their  affliction,  is 
to  make  most  of  them  slow  to  realize  that  they 
can  never  gain  the  one  thing  they  crave.  And 
this  miserable  awakening  had  not  yet  come  to 
William  Pressley.  On  that  evening  he  had  every 
reason  to  be  content  and  well  pleased  with  him- 
self. The  future  promised  all  that  he  most 
earnestly  wished  for.  He  was  already  moder- 
ately successful  in  the  practice  of  his  profession. 
This  was  mainly  owing  to  his  uncle's  influence, 
but  he  was  far  from  suspecting  the  fact.  His 
domestic  life,  also,  was  admirably  settled  ;  he  was 
fond  of  Ruth  and  proud  of  her,  as  he  was  of 
everything  belonging  to  himself.  But  the  thing 
which  made  him  happiest  was  a  suggestion  of 
Philip  Alston's,  first  offered  on  the  previous  day  ; 
and  it  was  to  this  that  he  now  recurred  at  the 
first  opportunity. 

He  spoke  with  an  eagerness  curiously  apart 
from  his  words: 

"  There  seems  to  be  no  doubt  that  the  Shaw- 
nees  are  really  gone.  Men,  women,  and  children, 
they  have  all  disappeared  from  their  town  on  the 
other  side  of  the  river.  A  hunter  who  has  been 
over  there  told  me  so  yesterday.  It  appears 
reasonably  certain  that  the  warriors  are  gather- 
ing under  the  Prophet  at  Tippecanoe." 

«  Yes,  it  is  undoubtedly  true  that  the  Indians 
are  rising,"  replied  Philip  Alston,  still  looking 
at  Ruth.  "  Well,  it  was  bound  to  come,  —  this 


"PHILIP  ALSTON,   GENTLEMAN"  33 

last  decisive  struggle  between  the  white  and  the 
red  race,  —  and  the  sooner  the  better,  perhaps. 
I  hear,  too,  that  the  troops  are  already  moving 
upon  the  Shawnee  encampment." 

"  Have  you  heard  anything  more  about  the 
attorney-general's  offering  his  services  ?  Is 
it  decided  that  he  will  go  ? "  asked  William 
Pressley. 

He  spoke  more  quickly  and  with  more  spirit 
than  was  common  with  him.  And  he  sank  back 
with  an  involuntary  movement  of  disappointment 
when  Philip  Alston  shook  his  head. 

"  However,  there  is  little  doubt  that  he  will 
go.  He  is  almost  sure  to,"  Philip  Alston  went 
on.  "  It  is  his  way  to  put  his  own  shoulder  to 
the  wheel.  You  remember,  judge  —  " 

"  What's  that !  "  cried  the  judge,  starting  up 
from  his  doze. 

"  We  are  talking  about  Joseph  Hamilton 
Daviess,"  said  Philip  Alston. 

"  A  great  man.  A  great  lawyer  —  the  first 
lawyer  west  of  the  Alleghanies  to  go  to  Wash- 
ington and  plead  a  case  before  the  Supreme 
Court,"  said  the  judge. 

"  He  has  certainly  been  untiring  and  fearless 
in  the  discharge  of  his  duty  as  the  United 
States  Attorney,"  Philip  Alston  said  warmly. 
"  I  was  just  going  to  remind  you  of  the  journey 
that  he  made  across  the  wilderness  from  Ken- 
tucky to  St.  Louis  to  find  out,  if  he  could,  at 
first  hand,  what  treason  Aaron  Burr  was  plotting 


34  ROUND   ANVIL  ROCK 

over  there  with  the  commandant  of  the  military 
post  as  a  tool.  He  didn't  find  out  a  great  deal. 
That  old  fox  knows  how  to  cover  his  tracks. 
But  the  attorney-general  did  more  than  any  one 
else  could  have  done.  He  hauled  Burr  to  trial, 
almost  single-handed,  and  against  the  greatest 
public  clamor.  He  leaves  nothing  undone  in  the 
pursuit  of  his  duty.  I  understand  that  he  is  to 
be  here  soon.  He  thinks  that  something  should 
be  done  to  put  down  the  lawlessness  of  this 
country  as  Andrew  Jackson  has  subdued  it  in 
his  territory." 

"  But  he  must,  of  course,  resign  the  office,  if 
he  intends  going  to  Tippecanoe,"  said  William 
Pressley. 

He  was  so  intent  upon  this  one  point  of  inter- 
est to  himself  that  he  had  scarcely  heard  what 
had  been  said.  He  now  turned  with  dignified 
impatience  when  his  aunt  broke  in,  speaking 
from  the  hearth.  Miss  Penelope  always  spoke 
with  a  greater  or  less  degree  of  suddenness  and 
irrelevance.  She  commonly  said  what  she  had  to 
say  at  the  instant  that  the  thought  occurred  to 
her,  regardless  of  what  others  might  be  talking 
or  thinking  about.  The  tenor  of  nearly  every- 
thing that  she  said  was  singularly  gloomy.  Her 
mind  was  full  of  superstition  of  a  homely,  domes- 
tic kind.  She  was  a  great  believer  in  signs,  and 
the  signs  with  which  she  was  most  familiar  were 
usually  forewarnings  of  some  great  and  mysteri- 
ous public  or  private  calamity.  Her  voice  was 


"PHILIP   ALSTON,   GENTLEMAN"  35 

remarkably  soft,  low,  and  sweet,  so  that  to  hear 
these  alarming  threats  and  these  appalling  proph- 
ecies uttered  in  the  tones  of  a  cooing  dove,  was 
very  singular  indeed. 

"  'Pon  my  word  !  "  she  now  exclaimed,  facing 
the  room,  but  still  keeping  close  to  the  coffee-pot. 
"  How  you  all  can  expect  anything  but  terrible 
troubles  and  awful  misfortunes  is  more  than  I 
can  understand.  The  warning  of  that  comet 
sent  a-flying  wild  across  the  heavens  is  enough 
for  me." 

No  one  noticed  what  she  said  —  which  cer- 
tainly seemed  to  require  no  notice ;  but  it 
never  made  any  difference  to  Miss  Penelope 
whether  her  remarks  were  warmly  or  coolly 
received.  After  stooping  to  turn  the  coffee- 
pot round  on  its  trivet  she  faced  the  room  again. 

"  Yes,  the  warning  is  plenty  plain  enough  for 
me  !  "  she  cooed.  "  And  just  look  at  the  dread- 
ful things  that  have  happened  already !  Just 
look  at  what  came  to  pass  between  the  time  we 
first  heard  of  that  comet  early  in  the  summer, 
and  the  time  we  first  saw  it  early  in  September. 
Didn't  all  the  wasps  and  flies  go  blind  and  die 
sooner  than  common,  right  in  the  middle  of  the 
hottest  weather  ?  Who  ever  heard  of  such  a 
thing  before  ?  And  look  at  the  fruit  crop,  — 
the  apple  trees,  the  peach  trees,  all  kind  of 
fruit  trees  —  and  the  grape-vines  a-bending  and 
a-breaking  clear  down  to  the  ground  because 
they  can't  bear  the  weight." 


36  ROUND  ANVIL  ROOK 

"  It  is  probable  that  the  early  dying  of  the 
wasps  and  flies  may  have  had  something  to  do 
with  the  fineness  of  the  fruit,"  said  William 
Pressley,  quite  seriously,  with  formal  politeness 
and  a  touch  of  impatience  at  the  interruption. 

Miss  Penelope  took  him  up  tartly  in  her  soft- 
est tone :  "  Then,  William,  may  I  ask  why  the 
people  all  over  the  country  are  calling  this  year's 
vintage  '  comet  wines  '  ?  For  that's  the  way 
they  are  marking  it,  and  everybody  is  putting  it 
to  itself  —  as  something  very  uncommon.  But 
never  mind !  I  am  used  to  having  what  I  say 
mocked  at  in  this  house.  It's  nothing  new  to 
me  to  have  my  words  passed  over  as  if  they 
hadn't  been  spoken.  I  can  bear  it  and  it  don't 
alter  my  duty.  I  am  bound  to  go  on  a-doing 
what  I  believe  to  be  right  just  the  same,  how- 
ever I  am  treated.  I  can't  sit  by  and  say  noth- 
ing when  I  know  that  I  ought  to  lift  up  my 
voice  in  warning.  So  I  say  again  —  you  can 
mark  my  word  or  not  as  you  think  best  —  that 
we  are  all  a-going  to  see  some  mighty  wild 
sights  before  we  see  the  last  of  that  comet's 
tail." 

"  Pooh !  Pooh !  Pooh  ! "  cried  the  widow 
Broadnax,  roughly  and  hoarsely,  as  she  nearly 
always  spoke,  and  sitting  up  suddenly  among 
her  cushions.  «  Who's  afraid  of  a  comet  with 
only  one  tail  ?  I'll  have  you  to  know,  sister 
Penelope,  that  my  grandmother — my  own  grand- 
mother and  Robert's  own  grandmother,  not  yours 


"PHILIP  ALSTON,   GENTLEMAN"  37 

—  could  remember  the  famous  comet  of  seventeen 
hundred  and  forty-four,  and  that  had  six  tails." 

Miss  Penelope  was  daunted  and  silenced  for 
the  moment.  She  did  not  mind  the  greater 
number  of  the  rival  comet's  tails.  It  was  not 
that  which  made  her  feel  herself  at  a  disadvan- 
tage. It  was  the  slur  at  her  lesser  relationship 
to  the  master  of  the  house.  Any  reference  to 
that  was  a  blow  which  never  failed  to  make  her 
flinch  ;  and  one  which  the  widow  never  lost  a 
chance  to  deal.  But  Miss  Penelope  had  not 
yielded  an  inch  through  the  ceaseless  contention 
of  years,  and  held  her  ground  now  ;  since  there 
was  nothing  to  say  in  reply,  she  ignored  the 
taunt  as  she  had  done  all  that  had  gone  before. 
She  turned  upon  William  Pressley,  however,  as 
we  are  prone  to  turn  upon  those  whom  we  do 
not  fear,  when  we  dare  not  attack  those  with 
whom  we  are  really  offended. 

"  Well,  William,  maybe  you  think  that  the  early 
dying  and  the  going  blind  of  the  wasps  and  the 
flies  caused  the  breaking  out  of  the  <  Jerks,'  too. 
You  and  the  rest  all  think  you  know  better  than  I 
do.  I  don't  complain  —  maybe  you  all  do  know 
better.  But  some  day,  when  I  am  dead  and  gone, 
some  day,  and  it  mayn't  be  very  long,  when  my 
hands  are  stone  cold  and  crossed  under  the  coffin- 
lid,  you  will  think  differently  about  a  good  many 
matters,"  she  cooed,  as  if  saying  the  mildest,  pleas- 
antest  things  in  the  world.  "The  Jerks  have 
brought  many  a  proud  head  low.  Others  besides 


38  ROUND   ANVIL   ROCK 

myself  will  see  a  warning  in  the  Jerks  before 
they  are  gone.  And  now  here  are  the  Shawnees 
a-coming  to  welter  us  in  our  blood.  And  the 
Cold  Plague  already  come  to  shake  the  life  out 
of  the  few  that  are  left.  But  it  is  their  own  fault. 
There's  nobody  but  themselves  to  blame.  It's 
easy  enough  to  keep  from  having  the  plague," 
Miss  Penelope  added  confidently.  "  Anybody 
can  keep  from  having  it,  if  they  will  only  take 
the  trouble  to  blow  real  hard  three  times  on  a 
blue  yarn  string  before  breakfast." 

William  Pressley  turned  gravely  and  was  about 
to  protest  against  such  absurd  superstition,  but 
Philip  Alston  interfered  tactfully,  to  assure  the 
lady  that  she  was  quite  right,  that  it  could  not 
fail  to  benefit  almost  any  one  to  breathe  on  any- 
thing, especially  if  the  breathing  were  very  deep 
and  very  early  in  the  morning. 

"  And  then  the  new  doctor  knows  how  to  cure 
the  plague,  aunt  Penelope,  dear,"  said  Ruth,  sud- 
denly looking  up  from  the  things  on  the  candle- 
stand.  She  was  always  the  peacemaker  of  the 
family.  "The  Sisters  told  me.  They  are  not 
afraid  now  that  he  has  come.  They  were  never 
afraid  for  themselves ;  it  was  for  the  children  — 
the  orphans.  They  said  that  little  ones  were  dying 
all  over  the  wilderness  like  frozen  lambs." 

"  This  new  doctor  is  a  most  presumptuous  per- 
son," said  William  Pressley,  with  the  chilly  delib- 
eration which  invariably  marked  his  irritation. 
"  He  refuses  to  bleed  his  patients  or  to  allow  them 


"PHILIP  ALSTON,   GENTLEMAN"  39 

to  be  bled.  These  unheard-of  objections  of  his 
are  levelled  at  the  fundamental  principles  of  the 
established  practice  and  calculated  to  undermine 
it.  Every  physician  of  reputable  standing  will 
tell  you  that  bleeding  is  the  only  efficacious  treat- 
ment for  the  Cold  Plague,  and  that  it  is  entirely 
safe  if  no  more  than  eight  ounces  of  blood  be 
taken  at  a  time,  and  not  oftener  than  once  in 
two  or  three  hours." 1 

No  one  said  anything  for  a  moment.  When 
William  Pressley  spoke  in  that  tone,  which  he 
frequently  did,  there  seemed  to  be  nothing  left 
for  any  one  else  to  say.  The  subject  appeared  to 
have  been  done  up  hard  and  fast  in  a  bundle  and 
laid  away  for  good  and  all.  The  judge  was  doz- 
ing again,  Philip  Alston  was  still  gazing  at  Ruth, 
Miss  Penelope  was  busy  over  the  coffee-pot,  and 
the  widow  Broadnax  was  watching  every  move- 
ment that  she  made.  It  was  Ruth  who  replied 
after  a  momentary  pause.  She  never  lacked 
courage  to  stand  by  her  own  opinions,  timid  and 
gentle  as  they  were ;  and  she  spoke  now  firmly 
though  gently : 

"  But,  William,  just  think !  These  were  little 
bits  of  babies.  Such  poor,  weak,  bloodless  little 
mites  anyway.  And  it  is  said  that  the  greatest 
pain  and  danger  from  the  plague  is  from  weak- 
ness and  cold.  The  strongest  men  shiver  and 
shiver  till  they  freeze  out  of  the  world." 

William  Pressley  bent  his  head  in  the  courtesy 
i  "Medical  Repository,"  1815,  p.  222. 


40  ROUND  ANVIL  ROCK 

that  stings  more  than  rudeness.  He  never  argued. 
He  had  spoken ;  there  was  no  need  to  say  any- 
thing more.  So  that  with  this  bow  to  Ruth  he 
turned  to  Philip  Alston  and  again  took  up  the 
topic  which  he  was  so  anxious  to  resume.  It 
had  already  been  interrupted,  he  thought,  by  far 
too  much  unimportant  talk.  Ruth  looked  at 
him  expectantly  when  he  started  to  speak,  but 
he  was  looking  at  Philip  Alston  and  spoke  to 
him. 

"You  have,  I  suppose,  sir,  mentioned  to  my 
uncle  what  you  so  kindly  suggested  to  me,  in  the 
event  that  the  attorney-general  should  resign  on 
going  to  Tippecanoe." 

The  deepest  feeling  that  Ruth  had  ever  heard 
in  his  voice  thrilled  it  now.  She  involuntarily 
bent  forward.  Her  eager  lips  were  apart,  her 
radiant  eyes  were  upon  him.  Was  he  going 
with  the  attorney-general  to  Tippecanoe?  She 
was  afraid,  glad,  frightened,  proud,  all  in  a 
breath.  She  had  forgotten  the  beautiful  gifts 
that  lay  before  her.  The  mere  mention,  the 
merest  thought  of  the  noble  and  the  great,  stirred 
her  heart  like  the  throb  of  mighty  drums. 

"No,  but  I  will  speak  to  him  about  it  now," 
replied  Philip  Alston.  "  Judge,  Judge  Knox  !  " 
raising  his  voice. 

The  judge,  aroused,  sat  up,  looking  round.  But 
William  Pressley  spoke  again  before  Philip 
Alston  could  explain. 

"If  the  attorney-general  really  intends  to  go, 


"PHILIP  ALSTON,   GENTLEMAN"  41 

he  must  resign.  There  will,  of  course,  be  many 
applicants  for  the  place,  and  we  can  hardly  be 
too  prompt  in  applying  for  it,  if  I  am  to  succeed 
him." 

Ruth  sank  back  in  her  chair.  The  fabric  which 
she  had  held  unconsciously  now  dropped  un- 
heeded from  her  hand.  She  could  not  have  told 
why  she  felt  such  a  shock  of  revulsion  and  dis- 
appointment. She  had  known  something  like 
it  before,  when  this  man  who  was  to  be  her  hus- 
band had  shown  some  strange  insensibility  to 
great  things  which  had  moved  her  own  heart  to  its 
depths.  But  the  feeling  had  never  been  so  strong 
as  it  was  now ;  had  never  come  so  near  reveal- 
ing to  her  the  real  character  of  him  with  whom 
her  whole  life  was  to  be  spent ;  and  she  was  still 
more  bewildered  and  perplexed  than  shocked  or 
distressed.  She  thought  that  she  must  have  mis- 
understood ;  that  he  could  not  have  meant  thus 
to  pass  over  this  great  national  crisis,  —  this 
noble  offering  of  a  great  man's  life  to  the  service 
of  his  country,  —  in  unfeeling  haste  to  grasp 
some  selfish  profit  from  it.  She  looked  at 
him  wonderingly,  with  all  the  light  gone  out 
of  her  face.  Being  what  she  was,  she  could  not 
see  that  he  was  just  as  true  to  his  nature  as  she 
was  to  hers ;  that  he  was  following  it  with  entire 
sincerity  in  looking  at  the  noblest  things  in  life 
and  the  greatest  things  in  the  world,  solely  as 
they  affected  himself  and  his  own  interests.  It 
was  not  for  a  nature  like  hers  ever  to  understand 


42  ROUND   ANVIL   ROCK 

that  a  nature  like  his  would,  if  it  could,  bend 
the  whole  universe  to  his  own  ends  without  a 
doubt  that  such  was  its  best  possible  use. 

Philip  Alston,  also,  was  regarding  William 
Pressley  with  rather  an  inscrutable  look.  But 
his  estimate  and  understanding  were  fairer  than 
Ruth's,  for  the  reason  that  he  could  come  nearer 
to  giving  the  young  man  his  due.  He  knew  that 
William  Pressley  was  honest  and  sincere  in  his 
vanity  and  conceit,  and  was  assured  that  these 
traits  were  the  worst  he  possessed.  Philip 
Alston  knew  men,  and  he  had  found  that  those 
who  honestly  thought  highly  of  themselves  usu- 
ally had  something,  more  or  less,  to  found  the 
opinion  upon.  He  had  never  known  a  bad  man 
who  sincerely  thought  himself  a  good  one.  He 
knew  that  many  dull  men  really  believed  them- 
selves to  be  intelligent,  —  but  that  was  a  compara- 
tively harmless  mistake, — and  he  had  never 
observed  that  a  woman  thought  less  of  a  man 
who  thought  well  of  himself.  Aside  from  this 
surface  weakness  William  Pressley  was  a  most 
worthy  young  fellow ;  far  more  worthy  to  be 
Ruth's  husband  than  any  one  else  in  that  rough 
and  thinly  settled  country.  The  nearer  the  time 
for  the  marriage  approached,  the  more  Philip 
Alston  came  to  believe  that  he  had  chosen 
wisely  in  selecting  William  Pressley.  Fully  con- 
vinced at  last  that  he  could  not  do  better  for 
her  future  than  to  intrust  it  to  this  serious,  con- 
scientious young  man,  who  was  unquestionably 


"PHILIP  ALSTON,   GENTLEMAN"  43 

fond  of  her  and  to  whom  she  was  much  attached, 
he  now  rested  content.  He  still  found,  to  be  sure, 
some  amusement  in  the  young  man's  estimate 
of  himself ;  but  he  never  doubted  its  sincerity  or 
questioned  its  harmlessness.  It  did  not  occur  to 
him  that  Ruth  might  be  troubled  by  these  mat- 
ters which  merely  made  him  smile. 

There  would  have  been  a  warning  for  him  in 
the  look  which  she  now  gave  William  Pressley 
had  he  seen  it.  But  he  was  looking  at  the  judge, 
who  could  not  grasp  the  meaning  of  what  had 
been  said ;  and  he  tried  again  to  put  the  facts 
before  him,  but  the  judge  would  not  allow  him 
to  finish. 

"  Who  says  Joe  Daviess  is  going  away  ? "  he 
demanded  excitedly.  "  Why,  he  can't  leave. 
It's  out  of  the  question.  There  is  nobody  to 
take  his  place.  We  can't  spare  him.  It  is  pre- 
posterous to  think  of  his  going  to  be  slaughtered 
by  those  red  devils.  A  man  like  that !  when 
there  are  plenty  of  no-account  wretches  good 
enough  to  make  food  for  powder.  He  mustn't 
go.  The  country  needs  him  more  here  than  there 
—  or  anywhere.  And  I  will  see  him  to-morrow, 
for  he  is  coming ;  tell  him  so,  by ! " 

"  You  will  have  your  trouble  for  nothing,  then, 
sir,"  said  Philip  Alston,  quietly,  interrupting  him. 
"  The  attorney-general  is  not  a  man  to  let  another 
man  tell  him  what  to  do  or  not  to  do.  And  we 
are  merely  considering  the  probability  of  his  go- 
ing. If  he  should  go,  some  one  must,  of  course, 


44  ROUND   ANVIL  ROOK 

take  his  place.  In  that  case  I  can  think  of  no 
one  more  fit  than  William  here,"  laying  his  hand 
on  the  young  man's  arm.  "With  his  qualifica- 
tions, backed  by  your  influence  and  mine,  there 
should  not  be  much  difficulty.  But  we  must 
press  his  claims  in  time  ;  the  notice  will  be  short." 

The  idea  was  new  to  the  judge  and  startling. 
He  turned  quickly  and  looked  at  his  nephew 
blankly  for  a  moment,  and  then  his  left  eye- 
brow went  up.  His  opinion  was  easy  enough  to 
read  on  his  open,  rugged  face  as  it  always  was, 
and  Philip  Alston  read  it  like  large  print ;  but  it 
did  not  suit  him  to  show  that  he  did,  and  no 
one  else  saw  it.  Ruth's  face  was  buried  in  her 
hands  as  she  sat  with  her  elbows  on  the  candle- 
stand.  William  was  looking  at  the  floor  with 
the  quiet  air  of  one  who  is  calmly  conscious  of 
his  own  merits,  and  can  afford  to  await  their 
recognition,  even  though  it  may  be  tardy.  The 
ladies  were  deeply  absorbed  in  the  duties  binding 
them  to  the  hearth.  The  coffee  was  now  ready, 
and  Miss  Penelope  lifted  the  pot  from  its  trivet, 
and,  carrying  it  to  the  table,  called  everybody 
to  supper.  No  affairs  of  state  ever  were,  or  ever 
could  be,  of  sufficient  importance  in  her  eyes  to 
justify  letting  the  coffee  get  cold. 

Philip  Alston  went  to  her  side  with  his  defer- 
ential air,  and  told  her  that  he  could  not  stay 
for  the  evening  meal.  He  explained  that  he  was 
expecting  several  friends  that  night  over  the  Wil- 
derness Road.  It  was  possible  that  they  might 


"PHILIP  ALSTON,   GENTLEMAN"  45 

already  have  arrived  and  were  now  awaiting  him 
in  his  cabin.  He  must  hasten  homeward  as  fast 
as  possible.  So  saying  he  took  her  bony  little 
hand  and  bowed  over  it,  and  made  another 
bow  of  precisely  the  same  ceremony  over  the 
widow  Broadnax's  pudgy  fingers.  He  always 
brought  his  finest  tact  to  bear  upon  his  acquaint- 
ance with  these  ladies. 

He  looked  around  for  Ruth  and  held  out  his 
hand.  She  came  to  him,  and  went  with  him  to 
the  door.  They  stood  close  together  for  a  mo- 
ment, talking  with  one  another  while  the  others 
were  settling  around  the  table.  When  he  had 
mounted  his  horse  and  set  out,  she  still  stood 
gazing  after  him  till  the  judge's  voice,  exclaiming, 
caused  her  to  turn. 

«  Call  Alston  back,  if  he  isn't  out  of  hearing  !  " 
he  said. 

Ruth  shook  her  head.  Philip  Alston  always 
rode  very  fast.  He  was  already  out  of  sight  in 
the  falling  night. 

«  Pshaw !  I  never  seem  able  to  keep  my  mind 
on  anything  these  days,"  the  judge  said,  fretted 
with  himself.  "  I  fully  meant  to  ask  Alston  to 
take  that  money  to  the  salt-works.  It  wouldn't 
have  been  much  out  of  his  way.  I  don't  know 
what  makes  me  so  forgetful  lately  —  and  always 
so  drowsy.  I  promised  faithfully  to  pay  for  that 
cargo  of  salt  to-day,  so  that  it  would  be  on  the 
river  bank  ready  for  loading  when  the  flatboat 
comes  to-morrow.  The  owner  of  the  boat  sent  the 


46  ROUND   ANVIL   ROCK 

money  yesterday.  I've  got  it  here  in  my  pocket. 
And  the  salt  was  to  be  delivered  for  cash ;  it 
will  not  be  sent  till  it  is  paid  for."  He  paused 
a  moment  in  troubled  thought.  "  David  !  Call 
that  boy.  He's  always  hidden  off  somewhere." 

"  Here,  sir,"  said  David,  standing  up  and  com- 
ing out  of  the  shadow  beneath  the  stairs. 

«  You  will  have  to  help  me  in  this  matter,  my 
lad,"  said  the  judge,  kindly,  forgetting  his  mo- 
mentary irritation.  "I'll  have  to  send  the  money 
by  you." 

He  drew  from  his  pocket  a  queer-looking  roll 
which  he  called  his  wallet.  It  was  a  strip  of  thin, 
fine  deerskin,  bound  with  a  narrow  black  riband 
and  tied  with  a  leathern  string.  The  bank-notes 
were  rolled  in  this,  and  the  gold  pieces  and  the 
"  bits  "  —  which  were  small  wedges  of  coin  cut 
from  silver  dollars  —  were  in  two  pouches  sewed 
across  the  end  of  the  strip.  It  was  very  seldom 
that  this  wallet  of  the  judge's  contained  so  large 
a  sum  of  money  as  on  that  night,  for  salt  was 
dear  in  the  wilderness.  It  required  eight  hun- 
dred gallons  of  the  weak  salt  water  and  many 
cords  of  fire-wood,  and  the  work  of  many  men 
for  many  days,  to  make  a  single  bushel  of  the 
precious  article.  It  was  still  scarce  and  hard  to 
get  thereabouts  at  five  dollars  a  bushel,  so  that  a 
large  sum  was  needed  to  pay  for  an  entire  cargo. 
Drops  of  perspiration  stood  on  the  judge's  fore- 
head as  he  counted  out  the  bank-notes,  the  gold, 
and  the  cut  money.  He  cared  little  for  his  own 


"PHILIP  ALSTON,   GENTLEMAN"  47 

money,  and  he  rarely  had  much  at  a  time ;  but 
he  was  scrupulously  careful  in  his  handling  of 
other  people's.  And  he  knew  that  his  eyes  were 
not  very  clear  that  night,  and  that  his  fingers 
were  not  so  sure  as  they  should  be  of  anything 
that  they  touched.  Ruth  saw  how  it  was  with 
a  tender  pang  at  her  heart,  for  she  knew  how 
honest  he  was  and  how  good,  and  she  loved  him. 
She  knelt  down  at  his  side  and  helped  him  count 
the  money,  over  which  his  clumsy  hands  were 
fumbling  pathetically,  so  that  there  might  be  no 
error  in  the  counting. 

"  There ! "  he  said,  tying  the  string  round  the 
wallet,  which  was  now  almost  empty,  and  putting 
it  back  in  his  pocket.  "  I  want  you,  David,  to 
take  this  and  go  over  to  the  salt-works  very  early 
in  the  morning,  as  soon  after  daybreak  as  you 
can  see  your  way.  Take  two  of  the  best  black 
men  with  you,  —  they  will  take  care  of  you  and 
the  money,  too,"  he  added,  with  his  easy-going 
laugh.  And  then  he  grew  suddenly  sobered  with 
a  touch  of  shame.  "  I  wouldn't  give  you  the 
money  to-night,  my  boy,"  he  said  hesitatingly, 
«  but  —  I  am  hard  to  wake  in  the  morning.  I 
am  afraid  you  couldn't  wake  me  early  enough  for 
me  to  give  you  the  money  in  time  to  get  you 
off  by  dawn.  And  my  client  will  be  here  with 
his  boat,  waiting  for  the  cargo,  if  you  are  any 
later  in  starting.  But  you  can  take  just  as  good 
care  of  the  money  as  I  could.  You  are  not  so 
likely  to  lose  it." 


48  ROUND  ANVIL  ROCK 

« I  will  do  my  best,  sir,"  said  the  boy,  quietly. 

He  took  the  money  and  put  it  away  in  his 
safest  pocket.  When  he  had  eaten  supper  with 
the  family,  he  went  back  to  his  shadowed  corner 
under  the  stairs.  But  he  could  not  read  his 
book ;  his  mind  was  too  full  of  thoughts  which 
were  fast  becoming  a  purpose.  Ruth  looked  at 
him  and  at  his  book  now  and  then,  while  she 
talked  to  the  others,  and  her  teasing  glances 
hastened  his  decision.  She  would  never  laugh 
at  him  again  for  dreaming  over  romances,  if 
he  could  prove  that  he  was  able  to  do  an  earnest 
man's  part  in  the  world.  Yes,  this  was  the 
chance  which  he  had  been  wishing  for.  He 
would  go  to  the  salt-works  at  once  —  that  very' 
night  —  without  waiting  for  daylight  and  with- 
out calling  the  black  men.  The  judge  would 
not  care;  he  never  cared  for  anything  that  did 
not  give  trouble,  and  he  need  not  know  until 
afterwards.  David  stood  up  suddenly  in  the 
shadows  under  the  stairs.  He  had  decided ;  he 
would  go  as  soon  as  he  could  get  away  from 
the  great  room  and  put  his  saddle  on  the  pony. 
Even  Ruth  must  acknowledge  that  a  night's  ride 
over  the  Wilderness  Road  was  the  work  of  a 
man  —  the  work  of  a  strong,  brave  man. 


IV 

THE    NIGHT   RIDE 

HE  left  the  great  room  for  his  own  cabin  at 
the  usual  hour.  No  one  but  Ruth  observed  his 
going.  She  smiled  at  him  as  he  passed,  and 
caught  his  hand  and  gave  it  a  little  teasing,  affec- 
tionate squeeze.  He  must  leave  "  The  Famous 
History  of  Montilion  "  unread  for  one  night,  — 
so  she  said,  —  and  he  must  go  to  bed  at  once, 
since  he  was  to  be  up  before  the  sun.  These 
little  ways  of  Ruth's  were  usually  very  sweet 
to  him,  but  he  did  not  find  them  so  that  night. 
He  made  no  reply,  and  looked  at  her  gravely, 
without  an  answering  smile.  Had  anything  been 
needed  to  fix  his  purpose,  this  gentle  raillery 
would  have  been  more  than  enough. 

He  went  straight  from  the  door  of  Cedar  House 
to  the  stable  under  the  hill,  stopping  at  his  cabin 
only  long  enough  to  get  his  rifle.  The  stable  was 
very  dark  within,  but  he  knew  where  to  find  the 
pony  that  he  always  rode,  and  the  saddle  and 
bridle  which  he  always  used,  without  needing  to 
see.  And  the  pony  knew  him,  too,  for  all  the 
darkness,  and  welcomed  him  with  a  friendly 
whinny  which  said  so  as  plainly  as  words.  For 

K  40 


50  ROUND   ANVIL  ROCK 

the  boy  and  the  pony  were  good  friends,  and 
moreover  they  understood  one  another  perfectly, 
which  is  rarely  the  case  with  the  best  of  friends. 
And  then  they  were  both  foundlings,  and  that 
may  have  made  another  bond  between  them.  The 
pony  had  been  a  wild  colt  caught  in  the  forest 
on  the  other  side  of  the  river.  Nothing  was 
known  of  his  ancestors,  although  they  were  sup- 
posed by  those  who  knew  best,  to  have  been  the 
worn-out  horses  of  good  blood  which  had  been 
deserted  in  the  wilderness  by  the  Spaniards.  But 
then  everything  cruel  was  laid  at  the  door  of  the 
hated  Spaniards  in  those  days,  when  they  had 
so  lately  been  forced  to  take  their  throttling 
grasp  from  the  throat  of  the  Beautiful  River. 
The  pony  certainly  bore  no  outward  mark  of 
noble  ancestry.  He  was  a  homely,  humble, 
rough-coated  little  beast.  Yet  David  liked  him 
better  than  all  the  other  finer  horses  in  the  judge's 
stables,  notwithstanding  that  some  of  these  had 
real  pedigrees;  for  good  horses  were  already 
appearing  in  Kentucky.  The  judge  allowed 
David  to  claim  the  pony  as  his  own.  Robert 
Knox  was  a  kind  man  when  he  did  not  forget, 
and  he  never  forgot  any  one  without  forgetting 
himself,  —  first  and  most  of  all,  —  as  he  did 
sometimes. 

David  always  thought  of  the  pony  as  an  or- 
phan like  himself,  and  his  own  bruised  feelings 
were  very  tender  toward  the  friendless  little 
fellow.  He  led  him  from  the  stable  now  as  a 


THE  NIGHT   RIDE  51 

mark  of  respect  and  because  it  was  dark ;  for  he 
knew  that  the  pony,  with  a  word,  would  follow 
him  anywhere,  at  any  time,  like  a  faithful  dog. 
It  was  not  quite  so  dark  outside,  and  springing 
into  the  saddle,  the  boy  bent  down  and  stroked 
the  rough  neck  and  the  tangled  mane  that  no 
brush  could  ever  make  smooth.  The  pony  lifted 
his  head  to  meet  the  caress,  and  then  these  two 
orphans  of  the  wilderness  looked  out  dimly,  won- 
dering, over  this  wonderful  new  country  into 
which  both  were  come,  without  knowing  how 
or  why  or  whence,  through  no  will  or  choice  of 
their  own. 

That  portion  of  Kentucky  rises  gently  but 
steadily  from  the  river,  and  rolls  gradually  up- 
ward toward  its  eastern  hills.  On  this  October 
night  so  close  to  the  very  beginning  of  the  com- 
monwealth, these  terraced  hills  were  still  covered 
with  the  primeval  forest.  Hill  after  hill,  and  for- 
est after  forest,  on  and  on  and  higher  and  higher, 
till  the  earth  and  the  heavens  came  together. 
Near  the  river  on  the  natural  open  spaces,  and 
where  earliest  the  clearings  had  been  made,  the 
boy  could  see  the  widely  scattered  rude  homes, 
the  young  orchards,  and  the  new  fields,  which  the 
first  Kentuckians  had  won  from  the  wilderness, 
from  the  savage,  from  the  wild  beast  and  the 
pestilence.  Southward,  and  a  long  way  off,  lay 
the  great  Cypress  Swamp.  The  wavering  sable 
line  of  its  tree-tops  spread  a  pall  across  the 
starless  horizon.  The  deadly  white  mists  which 


52  BOUND   ANVIL  ROOK 

shrouded  its  gloomy  mystery  through  the  sunniest 
day  were  now  creeping  out  to  enshroud  the  higher 
land.  Through  the  mingled  mist  and  darkness 
the  sombre  trunks  of  the  towering  cypress  trees 
rose  with  supernatural  blackness.  The  mysteri- 
ous "  knees,"  those  strange,  naked,  blackened 
roots,  so  wildly  gnarled  and  twisted  about  the 
foot  of  the  cypress,  appeared  to  writhe  out  of  the 
swamp's  awful  dimness  like  monstrous  serpents 
seen  in  a  dreadful  dream. 

And  thus  these  dark  fancies  swayed  the  boy's 
imagination  as  wind  sways  flame,  till  he  sud- 
denly remembered  and  turned  from  them  more 
quickly  and  firmly  than  ever  before.  He  had 
made  up  his  mind  to  cease  dreaming  with  his 
eyes  open.  He  was  resolved  to  see  only  real 
sights  and  to  hear  only  real  sounds  from  this 
time  on.  He  did  not  deceive  himself  by  think- 
ing that  this  ever  could  be  easy  for  him  to  do. 
He  knew  too  well  that  in  place  of  the  cool, 
steady  common-sense  which  should  dwell  in  every 
man's  breast,  there  dwelt  something  strangely 
hot  and  restless  in  his  own.  He  had  always  felt 
this  difference  without  understanding  it ;  but  he 
had  hoped  that  no  one  else  knew  it  —  up  to  the 
cruel  revelation  of  Ruth's  laughing  and  kindly 
meant  words.  Well,  neither  Ruth  nor  any  one 
should  ever  again  have  cause  to  laugh  at  him 
for  romantic  weakness,  if  he  might  help  it  by 
keeping  guard  over  his  fancy. 

He  therefore  sternly  kept  his  eyes  away  from 


THE   NIGHT   RIDE  53 

the  swamp  where  mystery  always  brooded.  He 
would  not  look  at  the  wonderful  mound  near  the 
swamp,  which  he  never  before  had  passed  with- 
out wonder.  It  was  then  —  as  it  is  now  —  such 
an  amazing  monument  to  a  vanished  race.  It  is 
so  unaccountably  placed,  this  mountain  of  earth 
in  the  midst  of  level  lowlands ;  so  astounding  in 
size  and  so  unmistakably  the  work  of  unknown 
human  hands.  Never  till  that  night  had  David's 
fervid  imagination  turned  toward  it  without  his 
beginning  forthwith  to  wonder  over  the  secrets 
of  the  ages  which  lie  buried  beneath.  He  had 
hitherto  always  thought  of  this  mound  in  associ- 
ation with  the  mysterious  blazed  trail  through 
the  forest.  But  that  was  much  farther  off  and 
more  directly  south,  and  no  one  but  the  boy  had 
ever  found  any  connection  between  the  two. 
He,  dreaming,  would  sometimes  imagine  that  the 
same  vanished  race  had  marked  the  path  through 
the  forest  by  cutting  the  trees  on  either  side  — 
this  marvellous  blazed  trail  which  De  Soto  is 
sometimes  said  to  have  found  when  he  came,  and 
again  to  have  made  himself,  regardless  of  the 
fact  that  history  does  not  mention  his  being  any- 
where near.  The  romance  of  the  buried  treasure 
which  this  mystic  path  was  believed  to  lead  to, 
perpetually  held  David  under  a  spell  of  enchant- 
ment. But  he  would  not  allow  himself  to  linger 
over  these  mysteries  now.  He  also  resisted  the 
horrible  fascination  of  the  Dismal  Slough  —  that 
long,  frightful  black  pit  —  linking  the  swamp  to 


54  ROUND  ANVIL  ROCK 

the  river.  And  most  of  all  he  shrunk  from  giving 
a  thought  or  a  glance  toward  the  gloom  hang- 
ing over  Duff's  Fort,  which  was  still  farther  off, 
and  the  strongest,  most  bloody  link  in  the  long 
and  unbroken  chain  of  crime  then  stretching 
clear  across  southwestern  Kentucky. 

As  these  uneasy  thoughts  thronged,  a  faint 
sound  borne  by  the  wind  caused  him  to  turn  his 
head  with  a  nervous  start,  and  he  saw  something 
moving  in  the  deeper  darkness  that  surrounded 
the  swamp.  He  pulled  up  the  pony,  tighten- 
ing his  grip  on  the  rifle,  and  strained  his  eyes, 
trying  to  make  out  what  this  moving  object  was. 
The  wavering  mists  were  very  thick,  and  he 
thought  at  first  that  it  might  be  nothing  worse 
than  a  denser  gathering  of  the  deadly  vapor  creep- 
ing out  of  the  swamp.  The  fog  suddenly  fell 
like  a  heavy  curtain,  and  he  could  see  nothing. 
And  then  lifting  again,  it  gave  him  a  fleeting 
glimpse  of  a  body  of  horsemen  riding  rapidly 
in  the  edge  of  the  forest,  as  if  seeking  the 
shadow  of  the  trees.  He  could  see  only  the 
black  outline  of  the  swiftly  moving  shapes,  but 
he  knew  that  they  must  be  part  of  the  band 
which  was  filling  the  whole  country  with  terror, 
violence,  and  death.  None  other  could  be  riding 
at  night  toward  Duff's  Fort.  He  thought  of  the 
money  in  his  pocket,  and  felt  the  thumping  of 
his  heart  as  his  hand  involuntarily  went  up  to 
touch  it,  making  sure  that  it  was  still  safe.  He 
sat  motionless  —  scarcely  daring  to  breathe  — 


THE   NIGHT   RIDE  55 

watching  the  shadows  till  he  suddenly  realized 
with  a  breath  of  relief  that  they  were  going  the 
other  way,  in  the  opposite  direction  from  his 
own  road.  And  then  after  waiting  and  watch- 
ing a  little  longer,  in  order  to  make  sure  that  they 
were  out  of  sight,  he  rode  on. 

The  courage  and  calmness  which  he  had  found 
in  himself  under  this  test,  heartened  him  and 
made  him  the  more  determined  to  control  his 
wandering  fancy.  Looking  now  neither  to  the 
right  nor  the  left,  he  pressed  on  through  the 
clearing  toward  the  buffalo  track  in  the  border 
of  the  forest  which  would  lead  him  into  the 
Wilderness  Road.  Sternly  setting  his  thoughts 
on  the  errand  that  was  taking  him  to  the  salt- 
works, he  began  to  think  of  the  place  in  which 
they  were  situated,  and  to  wonder  why  so  bare, 
so  brown,  and  so  desolate  a  spot  should  have 
been  called  Green  Lick.  There  was  no  greenness 
about  it,  and  not  the  slightest  sign  that  there  ever 
had  been  any  verdure,  although  it  still  lay  in  the 
very  heart  of  an  almost  tropical  forest.  It  must 
surely  have  been  as  it  was  now  since  time  im- 
memorial. Myriads  of  wild  beasts  coming  and 
going  through  numberless  centuries  to  drink  the 
salt  water,  had  trodden  the  earth  around  it  as 
hard  as  iron,  and  had  worn  it  down  far  below 
the  surface  of  the  surrounding  country.  The  boy 
had  seen  it  often,  but  always  by  daylight,  and 
never  alone,  so  that  he  noted  many  things  now 
which  he  had  not  observed  before.  The  huge 


56  ROUND  ANVIL  ROCK 

bison  must  have  gone  over  that  well-beaten  track 
one  by  one,  to  judge  by  its  narrowness.  He 
could  see  it  dimly,  running  into  the  clearing  like 
a  black  line  beginning  far  off  between  the  bor- 
dering trees  ;  but  as  he  looked,  the  darkness  deep- 
ened, the  mists  thickened,  and  a  look  of  unreality 
came  over  familar  objects.  And  then  through 
the  wavering  gloom  there  suddenly  towered  a 
great  dark  mass  topped  by  something  which  rose 
against  the  wild  dimness  like  a  colossal  black- 
smith's anvil.  It  might  have  been  Vulcan's  own 
forge,  so  strange  and  fabulous  a  thing  it  seemed  ! 
The  boy's  heart  leaped  with  his  pony's  leap.  His 
imagination  spread  its  swift  wings  ere  he  could 
think ;  but  in  another  instant  he  reminded  him- 
self. This  was  not  an  awful  apparition,  but  a 
real  thing,  wondrous  and  unaccountable  enough 
in  its  reality.  It  was  Anvil  Rock  —  a  great,  soli- 
tary rock  —  rising  abruptly  from  the  reckless  loam 
of  a  level  country,  and  lifting  its  single  peak, 
rudely  shaped  like  a  blacksmith's  anvil,  straight 
up  toward  the  clouds.  It  was  already  serving 
as  a  landmark  in  the  wilderness,  and  must  con- 
tinue so  to  serve  all  that  portion  of  Kentucky,  so 
long  as  the  levelling  hand  of  man  may  be  with- 
held from  one  of  the  natural  wonders  of  the 
world. 

Beyond  Anvil  Rock  the  night  grew  blacker. 
When  David  reached  the  buffalo  track  he  could 
no  longer  see  even  dimly,  the  forest  closing  densely 
in  on  both  sides  of  the  narrow  path,  and  arching 


THE  NIGHT  RIDE  57 

darkly  overhead.  Instinctively  he  put  up  his 
hand  again  and  touched  the  money  in  his  breast 
pocket.  His  grasp  on  the  rifle  unconsciously 
grew  firmer,  but  he  loosed  the  bridle-rein  for 
a  moment  to  pat  the  pony.  The  little  beast 
entered  the  shadows  of  the  trees  without  a 
tremor;  yet  there  were  dangers  therein  for  him 
no  less  than  for  his  rider,  and  his  excited  breath- 
ing told  that  he  knew  this  quite  as  well  as  his 
master.  It  was  so  dark  that  neither  could  see 
the  path,  and  the  boy  was  trusting  more  to  the 
pony  than  to  himself,  as  they  went  swiftly  for- 
ward through  the  still  darkness  of  the  forest. 
The  pony's  unshod  feet  made  scarcely  a  sound  on 
the  soft,  moist  earth.  There  had  been  no  frost 
to  thin  the  thick  branches  hanging  low  over  their 
heads.  The  few  leaves  which  had  drifted  down 
were  still  unwithered,  and  only  made  the  hoof- 
beats  more  soundless  on  the  yielding  earth,  so  that 
there  was  not  a  rustle  at  the  noiseless  passing  of 
the  pony  and  his  rider.  Only  a  sudden  gust  of 
wind  now  and  then  sent  a  murmur  through  the 
dark  tree-tops  and  gently  swayed  the  sombre 
boughs.  And  so  they  sped  on,  drawing  nearer 
and  nearer  to  the  Wilderness  Road,  till  presently 
the  wind  brought  the  strong  odor  of  boiling  salt 
water.  The  woods  became  now  still  further 
darkened  and  entangled  by  many  fallen  trees 
which  had  been  felled  to  make  fuel  for  the  fur- 
naces, and  by  huge  heaps  of  logs  piled  ready  for 
burning.  Here  and  there  were  great  whitening 


58  BOUND  ANVIL  ROCK 

giants  of  the  forest  still  standing  after  they  had 
been  slain,  as  soldiers  —  death-stricken  —  stand 
for  an  instant  on  the  field  of  battle.  It  seemed 
to  the  fanciful  boy  that  the  wind  sighed  most 
mournfully  among  these  wan  ghosts  of  trees, 
and  that  the  dead  boughs,  moved  by  the  sigh- 
ing wind,  smote  one  another  with  infinite 
sadness. 

There  was  no  sound  other  than  this  moaning 
of  the  wind  through  the  forest  and  the  muffled 
beating  of  the  pony's  feet  on  the  leaf-covered 
path.  Once  a  great  owl  flew  across  the  dark 
way  with  a  deadened  beating  of  his  heavy  wings. 
Again  wolves  howled,  but  so  far  in  the  distance 
that  the  sound  came  as  the  faintest  echo.  A 
stronger  gust  of  the  fitful  wind  filled  the  forest 
with  the  sulphurous  vapors  arising  from  the 
evaporating  furnaces.  A  moment  more,  and 
the  vivid  glare  of  the  fires  flared  luridly  through 
the  wild  tangle  of  the  undergrowth.  Against 
this  red  glare  many  black  shadows  —  the  dark 
forms  of  the  firemen  —  could  now  be  indis- 
tinctly seen  moving  like  evil  spirits  around  the 
smoking,  flaming  pits. 

It  was  a  wild,  strange  sight,  wild  and  strange 
enough  to  fire  a  cooler  fancy  than  David's.  He 
forgot  his  errand,  forgot  the  money,  forgot  where 
he  was  —  everything  but  the  romance  of  the 
scene  which  had  taken  him  captive.  Every 
nerve  in  his  tense  young  body  was  strung  like 
the  cord  of  a  harp ;  his  young  heart  was  beating 


THE   NIGHT   RIDE  59 

as  if  a  heavy  hammer  swung  in  his  breast.  And 
then,  without  so  much  as  the  warning  rustle  of  a 
leaf  or  a  sound  more  alarming  than  the  sigh  of 
the  wind,  two  blurred  black  shapes  burst  out  of 
the  forest  upon  him. 


ON    THE    WILDERNESS    KOAD 

THE  pony  fell  back  almost  to  his  haunches 
before  the  boy  could  draw  the  reins.  The  two 
horses  recoiled  with  equal  suddenness  and  vio- 
lence. An  unexpected  encounter  with  the 
unknown  in  the  darkness  filled  even  the  dumb 
brutes  with  alarm,  and  brute  and  human  alike 
had  reason  to  be  alarmed ;  for  this  time  and 
this  place  —  stamped  in  blood  on  history  — 
marked  the  very  height  and  centre  of  the  reign 
of  terror  on  the  Wilderness  Road. 

The  boy  strained  his  terrified  gaze  through  the 
dark,  but  he  could  see  nothing  except  those 
vague,  black  forms  of  two  horsemen,  looming 
large  and  threatening  against  the  lurid  glow  of 
the  furnace  fires  which  faintly  lit  the  forest. 
The  men  and  their  horses  looked  like  monstrous 
creatures,  half  human  and  half  beast,  both  as 
silent  and  motionless  as  himself.  He  felt  that 
they  also  were  listening  and  watching  in  tense 
waiting  as  he  waited  and  watched,  hearing  only 
the  frightened  panting  of  the  horses  and  the  faint 
rustle  of  the  sable  leaves  overhead.  And  so  all 
held  for  an  instant,  which  seemecl  endless,  till  a 

60 


ON   THE  WILDERNESS   ROAD  61 

sudden  gust  of  wind  swung  the  boughs  and  sent 
the  glare  of  the  furnace  flames  far  and  high 
through  the  forest.  The  vivid  flash  came  and 
went  like  lightning,  but  it  lasted  long  enough  for 
the  boy  to  recognize  one  of  the  black  shapes. 

«  Father ! "  he  cried.     "  Father  Orin  !  " 

"  Bless  my  soul  —  it's  young  David ! "  ex- 
claimed the  priest. 

There  was  as  much  relief  in  his  tone  as  in  the 
boy's,  and  he  turned  hastily  to  the  horseman  at 
his  side. 

"Doctor,  this  is  a  young  friend  of  mine  —  a 
member  of  Judge  Knox's  family.  You  have 
heard  of  the  judge.  And,  David,  this  is  Doctor 
Colbert.  You,  no  doubt,  have  heard  of  him." 

David  murmured  something.  He  had  never 
before  been  introduced  to  any  one ;  and  had 
never  before  been  so  acutely  conscious  that 
he  had  no  surname.  The  doctor  sent  his 
horse  forward,  coming  close  to  the  pony's  side. 
He  held  out  his  hand  —  as  David  felt  rather 
than  saw  —  and  he  took  the  boy's  hand  in  a 
warm,  kind  clasp.  It  was  the  first  time  that  a 
man  had  given  David  his  hand  as  one  frank, 
earnest,  fearless  man  gives  it  to  another  —  but 
never  to  a  woman,  and  rarely  to  a  boy.  David 
did  not  know  what  it  was  that  he  felt  as  their 
hands  met  in  the  darkness,  but  he  knew  that 
the  touch  was  like  balm  to  his  bruised  pride, 
which  had  been  aching  so  sorely  throughout  the 
lonely  ride.  Father  Orin  now  rode  nearer  on 


62  ROUND   ANVIL   ROCK 

the  other  side,  and  although  no  more  than  the 
dimmest  outline  of  any  object  could  be  seen,  the 
boy  saw  that  the  priest  continued  to  turn  his 
head  and  cast  backward  glances  into  the  dark 
forest.  When  he  spoke,  it  was  in  a  low  tone, 
strangely  guarded  and  serious  for  him,  who  was 
always  as  outspoken  and  light-hearted  as  though 
his  hard  life  of  toil  and  self-sacrifice  had  been 
the  most  thoughtless  and  happiest  play. 

"  But  how  does  it  happen  that  you  are  here, 
my  son  ?  "  he  asked,  almost  in  a  whisper.  «  I 
can't  understand  the  judge's  allowing  it.  Can  it 
be  possible  that  he  has  sent  you  —  on  business  ? 
Why  — !  A  man  isn't  safe  on  this  part  of  the 
Wilderness  Road  at  night,  and  hardly  at  midday, 
alone.  For  a  child  like  you  —  " 

There  it  was  again,  like  a  blow  on  a  bruise ! 
The  boy  instantly  sat  higher  in  the  saddle,  try- 
ing to  look  as  tall  as  he  could,  and  forgetting 
that  no  one  could  see.  And  replying  hastily  in 
his  deepest,  most  manly  voice,  he  said  scorn- 
fully, that  there  was  nothing  to  be  afraid  of 
with  his  rifle  across  the  saddle-bow,  declaring 
proudly  that  he  knew  how  to  deal  with  wild 
beasts,  should  any  cross  his  path.  As  for  the 
Indians,  he  scoffed  at  the  idea ;  there  were  none 
in  that  country,  and  never  had  been  any  there- 
abouts, except  as  they  came  and  went  over  the 
Shawnee  Crossing. 

"  But  you  are  mistaken ;  the  Meek  boys  — 
James  and  Charles  —  were  killed  only  a  few 


ON   THE  WILDERNESS   ROAD  63 

weeks  ago,  just  across  the  river,"  said  the 
priest.  "  And  they  were  better  able  to  take 
care  of  themselves  than  you  are,  my  child. 
Come,  you  must  turn  back  with  us.  We  can- 
not go  with  you,  and  we  must  not  allow  you 
to  go  on  alone." 

Saying  this,  Father  Qrin  turned  his  horse  and 
moved  forward.  David  made  no  movement  to 
follow.  Tightening  the  reins  on  the  pony's  neck, 
he  did  not  try  to  turn  him.  Something  in  the 
stiff  lines  of  the  boy's  dark  figure  told  the  doc- 
tor part  of  the  truth.  He  broke  in  quickly, 
speaking  not  as  a  man  speaks  to  a  child,  but 
as  one  man  to  another. 

"There  are  worse  things  than  wild  beasts 
or  Indians  to  be  met  on  the  Wilderness  Road," 
he  said.  "  And  the  strongest  and  the  bravest 
are  helpless  against  a  stab  in  the  back,  or  a  trap 
in  the  dark." 

David  felt  a  sudden  wish  to  see  the  speaker's 
face.  He  longed  to  see  how  a  man  looked  who 
had  a  voice  like  that.  It  stirred  him,  and  yet 
soothed  him  at  the  same  time.  Every  tone  of 
it  rang  clear  and  true,  like  a  bell  of  purest 
metal.  All  who  heard  it  felt  the  strength  that 
it  sounded  —  strength  of  body  and  mind  and 
heart  and  spirit. 

David  fell  under  its  influence  at  once.  He 
was  turning  the  pony's  head  when  Father  Orin 
in  his  anxiety  erred  again. 

"I  am   surprised   at   the   judge,"    the   priest 


64  ROUND  ANVIL  ROCK 

said.  "  This  isn't  like  him  —  forgetful  as  he  is 
about  most  things.  And  what  are  you  here  for, 
my  son  ?  Where  were  you  going  ?  " 

«  The  judge  has  nothing  to  do  with  my  com- 
ing to-night.  He  merely  told  me  to  take  this 
money  —  " 

"  Hush !  Hush ! "  cried  the  two  men  in  a 
breath.  At  the  instant  they  pressed  closer  to 
the  boy's  side,  as  if  the  same  instinct  of  protec- 
tion moved  them  both  at  the  same  moment. 
« Come  on !  Let's  ride  faster,"  they  said  to- 
gether. "It  is  not  so  dark  or  so  dangerous  in 
the  buffalo  track." 

The  pony,  turning  suddenly,  pressed  forward 
with  the  other  horses,  more  of  his  own  accord 
than  with  his  rider's  consent,  and  gallantly  kept 
his  place  between  them,  although  they  were 
soon  going  at  the  top  of  their  speed.  Nothing 
more  was  said  for  several  minutes,  and  then  the 
doctor  spoke  to  the  boy. 

"  You  will  give  us  the  pleasure  of  your  com- 
pany all  the  way,  I  trust,  sir,"  he  said  ceremo- 
niously, and  as  no  one  ever  had  spoken  to  David. 
"  It  is  a  long,  lonesome  ride,  and  my  home  is  still 
farther  off  than  yours." 

David  murmured  a  pleased,  bashful  assent. 
They  had  now  reached  the  buffalo  track,  which 
was  not  wide  enough  for  the  three  to  ride 
abreast.  It  was  therefore  necessary  for  them  to 
fall  into  single  file,  and  David  managed  to  get 
the  lead.  This  made  him  feel  better,  and  more 


ON   THE  WILDERNESS   ROAD  65 

of  a  man,  for  the  darkness  was  still  deep,  and  the 
black  boughs  overhead  still  hung  low  and  heavy. 
Neither  of  the  horsemen  spoke  again  fora  long 
time  after  entering  upon  the  buffalo  track.  Once 
more  the  only  sound  was  the  steady,  muffled  beat- 
ing of  the  horses'  swiftly  moving  feet.  The  two 
men  were  buried  in  their  own  thoughts  of  duties 
and  aims  far  beyond  the  boy's  understanding,  and 
he  was  not  thinking  of  these  silent  companions 
by  his  side  —  he  was  scarcely  thinking  at  all ;  he 
was  merely  feeling.  He  was  held  under  a  spell, 
dumb  and  breathless,  enchanted  by  the  mystery 
of  the  wilderness  at  night. 

It  was  so  black,  so  beautiful,  so  terrible,  so 
soundless,  so  motionless,  so  unfathomable.  There 
was  no  moon.  The  few  pale  stars  glimmered 
dimly  far  above  the  dark  arches  of  the  trees. 
No  bird  moved  among  the  sable  branches,  or  even 
twittered  in  its  sleep  as  if  disturbed  by  the  light, 
swift  passing  of  the  shadowy  horsemen.  No  wild 
animal  stirred  in  his  uneasy  rest  or  even  breathed 
less  deeply  in  his  hunting  dreams,  at  the  flitting 
of  the  shadows  across  his  hidden  lair. 

The  mystery,  the  beauty,  and  the  terror  went 
beyond  the  black  border  of  the  forest.  Out  in 
the  open  and  over  the  clearing,  the  mists  from 
the  swamp  mingling  with  the  darkness  gave 
everything  a  look  of  fantastic  unreality  yet  wilder 
than  it  had  worn  earlier  in  the  night.  Dense 
earth-clouds  were  thus  massed  about  the  base  of 
Anvil  Rock.  Its  blackened  peak  loomed  through 


66  ROUND   ANVIL  ROCK 

the  clouds,  —  a  strange,  wild  sight,  apparently 
belonging  neither  to  earth  or  to  heaven.  But 
far  beyond  and  above  was  a  stranger,  wilder 
sight  still ;  the  strangest  and  wildest  of  all ;  one 
of  the  strangest  and  wildest,  surely,  that  human 
eyes  ever  rested  upon. 

There  across  the  northern  sky  sped  the  great 
comet.  Come,  none  ever  knew  whence,  and 
speeding  none  ever  knew  whither,  it  reached  on 
that  night  —  on  this  fifteenth  of  October  —  the 
summit  of  its  swift,  awful,  arching  flight.  It  was 
now  at  the  greatest  of  its  terrible  splendor  and 
appalling  beauty.  It  was  now  at  the  very  height 
of  its  boundless  influence  over  the  hopes  and 
fears  of  the  superstitious,  romantic,  emotional, 
poetic  race  which  was  struggling  to  people  the 
wilderness.  As  it  thus  burst  upon  the  vision 
of  the  three  horsemen,  each  felt  its  power  in  his 
own  way,  —  the  man  of  faith,  the  man  of  science, 
and  the  fanciful  boy,  —  each  was  differently  but 
deeply  moved.  The  men  looked  at  the  comet 
as  the  wise  and  learned  of  the  earth  look  at  the 
marvels  of  another  world.  The  boy  gazed  quiver- 
ingly,  like  a  harp  struck  by  a  powerful  hand. 
He  strove  to  cast  his  fancies  aside,  and  to  remem- 
ber what  he  had  heard  before  the  comet  had  be- 
come visible  to  this  country.  He  tried  vainly  to 
recall  the  talk  about  it  —  not  the  idle  and  foolish 
superstitions  which  Miss  Penelope  had  mentioned, 
and  which  all  the  common  people  believed  —  but 
the  scientific  facts  so  far  as  they  were  known.  Yet 


ON   THE   WILDERNESS   ROAD  67 

even  his  imagination  failed  to  realize  that  this 
flaming  head,  with  its  strange  halo  of  darkness, 
and  its  horrible  hair  of  livid  green  light,  was  four 
million  times  greater  than  the  earth ;  or  that  its 
luminous  veil  —  woven  of  star-dust  so  fine  that 
other  stars  shone  through  —  streamed  across 
one  hundred  million  of  miles,  thick  strewn  with 
other  stars. 

"  Listen  !  "  cried  the  doctor.     "  Hear  that !  " 
A  distant  roaring,  like  the  on-coming  of  a  sud- 
den storm,  rolled   upward  from   the  mists  and 
darkness  lying  thicker  around  the  swamp. 

"  There  it  is  again  !  "  Doctor  Colbert  went  on, 
as  if  he  had  been  waiting  and  listening  for  the 
sound.  "  There  must  be  great  excitement  at  the 
camp-meeting  on  this  last  night.  Does  it  still 
interest  you,  Father  ?  It  does  me,  intensely. 
This  is  not  the  usual  peculiar  excitement  which 
seems  to  belong  to  a  crowd,  though  that,  too,  is 
always  curious,  mysterious,  and  interesting.  We 
all  know  well  enough  that  for  some  unknown 
reason  a  crowd  will  do  wild,  strange,  and  foolish 
things,  which  the  individuals  composing  it  would 
never  be  guilty  of  alone.  But  this  is  something 
entirely  different  and  still  more  curious  and  mys- 
terious. Those  people  down  yonder  keep  this  up 
by  themselves  when  they  are  alone  —  it  attacks 
some  of  them  before  they  have  ever  seen  one 
of  the  meetings.  It  is  certainly  the  strangest 
phenomenon  of  its  kind  that  the  world  ever 
saw.  It  never  loses  its  painful  fascination  for 


68  ROUND  ANVIL  ROCK 

me.  I  can't  pass  it  by.  How  is  it  with 
you  ?  " 

The  priest  hesitated  before  replying.  "Any 
form  of  faith  —  the  crudest,  the  most  absurd  that 
any  soul  ever  staked  its  salvation  upon  —  must 
always  be  the  most  interesting  subject  in  the 
world  to  every  thinking  mind." 

"  It  seems  so  to  me,"  the  doctor  replied. 
"  And  I  assure  you  that  there  is  no  irreverence 
in  the  scientific  curiosity  which  I  feel  in  this 
extraordinary  epidemic  of  religious  frenzy ;  for 
it  is  certainly  something  of  that  sort.  It  is  un- 
mistakably contagious.  I  have  become  more 
and  more  certain  of  that  as  I  have  watched  the 
poor  wretches  who  are  shrieking  down  yonder. 
It  is  a  mental  and  moral  epidemic,  and  so  highly 
contagious  that  it  has  swept  the  whole  state,  till  it 
now  sweeps  the  remotest  corner  of  the  wilderness. 
And  it  seems  to  have  originated  in  Kentucky.  It 
is  something  peculiarly  our  own." 

"Yes,"  said  Father  Orin,  "Kentucky  is  the 
pioneer  in  religion,  as  well  as  politics,  for  the 
whole  West.  But  my  church  came  first,"  he 
added  with  a  chuckle.  "  Remember  that !  The 
Catholics  always  lead  the  way  and  clear  up  the 
brush,  with  the  Methodists  following  close  be- 
hind. I  got  a  little  the  start  of  brother  Peter 
Gartwright ;  but  that  was  my  good  luck,  and  not 
any  lack  of  zeal  on  his  part.  And  I've  got  to 
stir  my  stumps  to  keep  ahead  of  him,  I  can  tell 
you." 


ON   THE   WILDERNESS  ROAD  69 

"  He  is  down  there  at  the  meeting  to-night,  no 
doubt.  He  is  its  leading  spirit.  I  should  like 
to  know  what  he  really  thinks  of  it  all.  He  is  by 
nature  a  wonderfully  intelligent  young  fellow. 
And  what  do  you  really  think  of  it,  Father  ?  "  the 
doctor  pressed.  "  Is  this  the  same  thing  that  has 
come  down  the  ages  ?  Is  it  the  same  that  we 
find  in  the  Bible  —  making  great  men  and  wise 
ones  do  such  wild  things  ?  Is  it  the  same  that 
made  a  dignified  gentleman,  like  David,  dance  — 
as  those  fanatics  are  doing  down  there  —  till  he 
became  a  laughing-stock  ?  Is  it  the  same  that 
made  a  sensible  man  like  Saul  join  his  faith  to 
a  witch  and  believe  that  he  saw  visions?  And 
then,  just  remember  the  scandalous  capers  — 
even  worse  than  the  others  —  that  the  decent 
Jeremiah  cut." 

«  Tut !  Tut !  Tut ! "  exclaimed  the  priest,  in 
a  voice  that  betrayed  a  smile.  "  Those  were  holy 
men,  my  young  friend.  I  cannot  allow  them 
to  be  laughed  at." 

"Oh,  come  now,  Father,  be  honest,"  said  the  doc- 
tor, laughing  aloud,  but  adding  quickly  in  a  serious 
tone  :  "  I  am  quite  in  earnest.  What  do  you  make 
of  it  all  ?  I  should  greatly  like  to  have  your  opin- 
ion. Is  there  anything  in  the  science  of  your 
profession  to  explain  it?  There  isn't  in  mine. 
The  more  of  it  I  see,  and  the  longer  I  study  it, 
the  farther  I  am  from  finding  its  source,  its  cause, 
and  its  real  character.  There  !  Just  hear  that ! " 

«  Well,  well,"  said  Father  Orin,  with  a  sigh  of 


70  ROUND  ANVIL  KOCK 

evasion,  "if  you  are  going  on  to  the  camp-meet- 
ing, Toby  and  I  will  have  to  leave  you  here.  We 
have  a  sick  call  'way  over  on  the  Eagle  Creek  flats. 
And  it's  a  ticklish  business,  going  over  there 
in  the  dark,  isn't  it,  old  man  ?  "  he  said,  patting 
his  big  gray  horse.  "  The  last  time  we  went  in 
the  night  the  limb  of  a  tree,  that  I  couldn't  see, 
dragged  me  from  the  saddle."  He  laughed  as  if 
this  were  a  joke  on  Toby  or  himself,  or  both. 
"  But  Toby  is  a  better  swimmer  than  I  am.  He's 
better  at  a  good  many  things.  He  got  me  out  all 
right  that  time  and  a  good  many  other  times.  He 
always  does  his  part  of  our  duty,  and  never  lets 
me  shirk  mine,  if  he  can  help  it.  Well,  then, 
we  must  be  moving  along,  Toby,  old  man."  He 
turned  suddenly  to  the  boy.  "  Will  you  go 
with  me,  David  ?  My  way  passes  close  to  Cedar 
House." 

"  Perhaps,  sir,  you  would  like  to  go  on  to  the 
meeting,"  said  the  doctor  to  David.  "It  would 
give  me  pleasure  to  have  you  with  me  —  if  you 
prefer  to  go  with  me.  Afterward  we  can  ride 
home  together.  My  cabin  is  not  far  beyond 
Cedar  House." 

After  a  little  more  talk  it  was  decided  that  the 
boy  should  go  with  the  doctor,  and  the  priest 
bade  them  both  a  cheerful  good  night. 

"  Now,  Toby,  we  must  be  putting  in  our  best 
licks.  If  you  don't  look  out,  old  man,  we  will 
be  getting  into  idle  ways.  Keep  us  up  to  the 
mark  —  right  up  to  the  mark,  old  man  !  " 


ON   THE  WILDERNESS  ROAD  71 

And  so,  talking  to  Toby,  and  chuckling  as  if 
Toby  made  telling  replies,  the  good  man  and  his 
good  horse  vanished  in  the  earth-clouds  round 
Anvil  Rock.  But  the  doctor  and  the  boy  sat  their 
horses  in  motionless  silence,  listening  to  the  kind, 
merry  voice  and  the  faithful  beat,  beat,  of  the 
steady  feet,  till  both  gradually  died  away  behind 
the  night's  heavy  black  curtain. 


VI 

THE  CAMP-MEETING 

As  they  turned  and  were  riding  on  toward  the 
camp-meeting,  the  doctor  spoke  of  the  priest  and 
his  horse.  The  boy  listened  with  the  wondering 
awe  that  most  of  us  feel,  when  some  stranger 
points  out  the  heroism  of  a  simple  soul  or  an 
every-day  deed  which  we  have  known,  unknow- 
ingly, all  our  lives. 

"  Father  Orin  and  Toby  are  a  pair  to  take 
your  hat  off  to,"  the  young  doctor  said.  "  I  have 
come  to  know  them  fairly  well  by  this  time, 
although  I  have  not  been  here  very  long.  It 
isn't  necessary  for  any  one  to  be  long  in  the 
neighborhood  before  finding  out  what  those  two 
are  doing.  And  then  my  own  work  among  the 
suffering  gives  me  many  opportunities  to  know 
what  they  are  doing  and  trying  to  do.  The 
church  side  is  only  one  side  of  their  good  work. 
I  am  not  a  Catholic,  and  consequently  see  little 
of  that  side ;  but  I  meet  them  everywhere  con- 
stantly caring  for  the  poor  and  the  afflicted  with- 
out any  regard  for  creed.  And  they  never  have 
any  money,  worth  speaking  of,  to  help  with. 
They  have  only  their  time  and  their  strength  and 

72 


THE   CAMP-MEETING  73 

their  whole  laborious,  self-sacrificing  lives  to  give. 
The  expedients  that  they  resort  to  in  a  pinch 
would  make  anybody  laugh  —  to  keep  from  cry- 
ing. They  were  out  the  other  day  with  a  brand- 
new  plan.  They  travelled  about  fifty  miles 
through  the  wilderness  trying  to  find  a  purchaser 
for  the  new  overcoat  that  a  Methodist  friend 
gives  Father  Orin  every  fall.  He,  of  course,  had 
given  his  old  coat  to  some  shivering  wretch  last 
spring  while  it  was  still  cold,  but  that  didn't 
make  the  slightest  difference.  He  didn't  even 
remember  the  fact  till  I  reminded  him  of  it.  It 
is  only  October  now  —  so  that  he  can  do  without 
the  overcoat  —  and  a  poor  fellow  who  has  come 
with  his  wife  and  baby  to  live  in  that  deserted 
cabin  near  the  courthouse,  is  in  sore  need  of  a 
horse  for  his  fall  ploughing.  Father  Orin  had 
suggested  Toby's  drawing  the  plough,  thinking 
that  some  of  his  own  work  might  be  attended 
to  on  foot.  But  Toby,  it  seems,  drew  the  line  at 
that.  It  was  a  treat  to  hear  Father  Orin  laugh 
when  he  told  how  Toby  made  it  plain  that  he 
thought  there  were  more  important  duties  for 
him  to  perform,  how  firmly  he  refused  to  drag 
the  plough.  He  was  quite  willing,  however,  to 
do  his  best  to  sell  the  overcoat,  so  that  they  might 
have  money  to  hire  a  horse  for  the  ploughing." 

The  doctor  broke  off  suddenly.  The  roar  com- 
ing from  the  darkness  around  the  swamp  rose 
high  on  the  gusty  wind.  He  and  David  were 
now  riding  fast,  and  the  roaring  grew  rapidly 


74  ROUND   ANVIL   ROCK 

more  continuous  and  distinct.  The  vast  volume 
of  inarticulate  sound  presently  began  to  break 
into  many  human  voices.  At  last  a  single  voice 
pierced  all  the  rest.  Its  shrill  cry  of  spiritual 
anguish  filled  the  dark  forest  with  the  wailing 
of  a  soul  in  extremity. 

"  And  it's  a  woman,  too  ! "  cried  the  doctor. 

He  spoke  shortly,  almost  angrily,  but  some- 
thing in  his  tone  told  David  that  he  also  was 
shivering,  although  the  night  was  warm,  and 
that  his  heart  was  full  of  pity.  They  were  now 
drawing  near  the  camp-meeting,  but  they  could 
not  see  it,  nor  even  the  light  from  it.  They 
had  reentered  the  forest,  which  was  here  made 
darker  and  wilder  by  many  fallen  trees,  blown 
down  and  tossed  together  by  the  fierce  tempests 
which  often  rent  the  swamp.  The  torn  roots, 
the  decaying  trunks,  and  the  shattered  branches 
of  the  dead  giants  of  the  ancient  wood,  were  dank 
with  water-moss.  Rank  poison  vines  writhed 
everywhere,  and  crept  like  vipers  beyond  the 
deadly  borders  of  the  great  Cypress  Swamp. 
Through  such  dark  and  tangled  density  as  this 
the  smoky  torches,  burning  dimly  around  the 
camp,  could  cast  their  light  but  a  little  way.  And 
thus  it  was  by  hearing  and  not  by  seeing,  that 
they  came  at  last  upon  the  spot  almost  by  acci- 
dent. They  had  scarcely  got  hurriedly  down  from 
their  horses,  and  hastily  tied  them  to  a  swinging 
bough  when  the  scene  burst  upon  them  —  a  wild 
vision  revealed  by  the  dim  nickering  torchlight. 


A  dark,  confused  .  .  .  writhing  mass  of  humanity." 


THE   CAMP-MEETING  75 

There  was  a  long,  low  shed  of  vast  extent.  It 
was  covered  with  rough  boards,  and  upheld  by 
tree-trunks  which  still  bore  the  bark.  There 
was  no  floor  other  than  the  bare  earth,  and  there 
were  no  seats  other  than  unhewn  logs.  Here, 
under  the  deep  shadows  of  this  great  shed,  all 
darkly  shut  in  by  the  black  wilderness  and  dimly 
lit  by  a  wide  circle  of  smoking,  flaring  torches, 
there  surged  a  dark,  confused,  convulsed,  roaring, 
writhing  mass  of  humanity.  And  there  were 
many  hundreds  in  that  shadowy  multitude  — 
swaying,  struggling,  groaning,  laughing,  weep- 
ing, shouting,  praying,  dancing,  leaping,  and 
falling. 

"  It  does  not  seem  possible  that  there  can  be 
so  many  in  all  the  wilderness,"  said  the  doctor. 
"  But  they  come  from  long  distances,  from  as  far 
as  fifty  and  sixty  miles  around.  And  they  have 
been  coming  for  weeks  —  day  and  night  —  just 
like  this." 

He  spoke  sadly,  and  with  deep  feeling.  He 
laid  his  firm,  gentle  hand  on  David's  shaking 
arm,  knowing  how  the  awful  spectacle  must 
affect  the  sensitive  boy.  David  instinctively 
drew  nearer  to  his  side  feeling  the  support  of 
his  calm,  sane,  strong  presence,  and  began  gradu- 
ally to  see  with  clearer  eyes,  so  that  this  awful 
vision  became  by  degrees  a  more  awful  reality. 

"  Listen  ! "  cried  the  doctor.  "  They  are  be- 
ginning to  sing ! " 

Ah,   listen    indeed !     For   a   stranger,    wilder 


76  KOUND  ANVIL  KOCK 

chant  than  this  which  now  went  swelling  up 
from  that  frenzied,  swaying  mass  of  humanity 
surely  never  stirred  all  that  is  most  mystical  in 
the  soul  of  man !  Pealing  grandly,  awfully  up- 
ward through  the  star-lit  spaces  of  a  grander 
temple  than  ever  was  reared  by  human  hands, 
it  rolled  heavenward,  on  and  on,  and  higher  and 
higher,  to  the  very  dome  of  the  firmament. 

With  the  wild  chanting,  the  madness  of  the 
multitude  increased.  Many  men  and  women  — 
ay,  and  little  children,  too  —  all  dropped  to  their 
knees,  heedless  of  being  trodden  underfoot  by 
the  unfallen  frenzied,  and  thus  crept  the  length 
of  the  earthen  floor  to  the  foot  of  the  rude  altar. 
Here,  before  the  pulpit  of  rough-hewn  logs,  great 
heaps  of  straw  were  strewn  thick  and  broadcast. 
On  these  straw  heaps  men  and  women  fell  pros- 
trate side  by  side,  and  lay  as  if  they  were  dead. 
Others,  both  men  and  women,  were  suddenly 
seized  with  the  unnatural,  convulsive  jerking 
which  gave  this  mysterious  visitation  its  best- 
known  name.  Under  this  dreadful  tremor  the 
long  hair  of  delicate  ladies  poured  unnoticed 
over  the  most  modest  shoulders  and  flew  back 
and  forth  with  the  sound  of  a  whip;  for  those 
so  wildly  wrought  upon  were  not  solely  of  the 
humble  and  the  ignorant.  The  highest  and  the 
most  refined  of  the  whole  country  were  there. 
The  earth  was  strewn  with  costly  raiment.  Gen- 
tlemen rent  the  fine  ruffles  from  their  wrists  and 
their  bosoms ;  gentlewomen  cast  their  richest 


THE   CAMP-MEETING  77 

ornaments  to  the  winds.  And  all  the  while 
that  this  awful,  majestic,  soul-stirring  chant  was 
thus  mounting  higher  and  growing  wilder,  many 
were  whirling  and  dancing. 

David  shrunk  back,  and  the  doctor  drew  him 
closer  to  his  side,  as  a  man  suddenly  burst  out  of 
the  swirling  mass  of  maddened  humanity,  and 
dashed  past  them  into  the  forest.  There,  still 
within  the  wide  circle  of  flaring,  smoking,  torch- 
light, the  poor  creature  threw  his  arms  around 
a  tree,  and  uttering  strange,  savage  cries  like  the 
barking  of  a  dog,  he  dashed  his  head  against 
the  tree-trunk  till  the  blood  gushed  out  and 
poured  down  his  ghastly  face.  David  clung  closer 
to  the  doctor's  arm  and  turned  his  eyes  away, 
feeling  sick  and  faint  with  horror. 

"  Don't  look  at  him.  Turn  your  head.  I 
must  go  to  him  and  help  him  if  I  can,"  the 
doctor  said,  gently  loosing  the  boy's  grasp.  "  I 
shouldn't  have  brought  you  here.  But  —  Good 
God  !  Who  is  that  ?  "  he  cried  sharply.  "  Look  ! 
Quick  !  Do  you  know  that  girl  ?  Over  there  by 
the  last  pillar  —  yonder,  yonder,  with  her  face 
turned  this  way  ! " 

In  his  eagerness  he  seized  the  boy,  fairly  lifting 
him  from  the  ground,  and  held  him  up  so  that  he 
could  see  over  all  the  heads  of  the  surging,  swirl- 
ing crowd.  The  girl  was  still  there,  and  David 
recognized  Ruth.  She  was  standing  not  far  off 
and  near  the  edge  of  the  shed.  Close  behind  her 
the  torches  threw  out  gloomy  banners  of  smoke 


78  ROUND   ANVIL   ROCK 

and  vivid  streamers  of  flame,  and  against  them 
she  appeared  a  quiet,  white  spirit  among  many 
tossed  dark  shades.  When  David  first  saw  her, 
he  thought  she  was  looking  at  him.  But  in 
another  moment  her  beautiful  face,  which  had 
been  pale  enough  before,  turned  as  white  as  her 
frock  and  her  large  eyes  widened  with  terror. 
And  then  David  knew  that  she  was  looking 
beyond  him  and  had  seen  the  horror  by  the  tree. 
He  forgot  his  own  horrified  faintness,  he  forgot 
where  he  was,  the  doctor  —  everything  but  Ruth 
and  that  look  in  her  dear  face.  He  sprang  tow- 
ard her  with  a  piercing  cry  and  outstretched 
arms. 

"  Ruth  !  "  he  cried.  «  Here  I  am,  Ruth,  dear. 
I  am  coming  to  you.  I'll  take  you  away !  " 

It  was  a  single  voice  raised  against  the  deaf- 
ening roar  of  a  hurricane.  Only  the  doctor  heard 
or  heeded,  and  he  laid  a  restraining  hand  on 
David's  shoulder. 

"  You  are  right,"  he  said.  "  Take  her  away  as 
soon  as  you  can.  She  should  not  have  come.  Is 
she  your  sister  ?  Come  this  way.  We  will  go 
round,"  he  went  on,  without  waiting  for  an 
answer.  "  We  may  be  able  to  reach  her  from 
the  other  side  of  the  shed." 

The  firm  touch  and  calm  tone  partly  brought 
the  boy  to  himself,  and  he  followed  as  closely 
as  he  could,  but  only  to  be  beaten  back  again 
and  again.  That  terrific  chant  was  now  at  its 
highest  and  wildest,  and  he  and  the  doctor  were 


THE   CAMP-MEETING  79 

caught  in  the  human  maelstrom  and  swirled 
hither  and  thither  like  straws.  They  were  swept 
far  apart,  and  when  they  were  quickly  driven  to- 
gether again,  they  had  lost  sight  of  Ruth.  They 
were  tossed  once  more,  and  thrown  outside  the 
fiercest  swirl.  Standing  still,  they  held  to  a  tree, 
gasping,  and  searched  the  crowd  with  their  gaze, 
trying  to  find  her.  She  was  nowhere  to  be 
seen.  But  while  they  thus  paused,  waiting  for 
breath  to  go  on,  they  saw  a  tall  man  near  by,  lean- 
ing against  a  pillar  and  quietly  overlooking  the 
wild  scene.  He  stood  within  the  circle  of  torch- 
light, and  they  could  see  him  distinctly.  Neither 
the  doctor  nor  David  had  ever  seen  him  before 
and  neither  ever  saw  him  again,  but  they  never 
forgot  just  how  he  looked  that  night. 

He  was  a  very  tall  man  of  more  than  six  feet 
in  height.  He  was  very  erect  and  very  slender, 
\\\\h  the  slenderness  that  gives  a  look  of  youth 
as  well  as  grace.  There  was  no  tinge  of  gray  in 
his  tawny  hair,  which  fell  heavily  back  from  his 
high,  narrow  forehead,  without  any  of  the  stiff- 
ness seen  in  his  later  portraits.  He  was  not 
more  than  thirty-five  years  of  age  at  this  time, 
but  his  face  was  already  lined  with  care  and 
trouble  and  exposure.  It  was  naturally  pale 
and  thin,  almost  haggard.  Its  sole  redeeming 
feature  was  the  wonderful  brilliance  of  his  blue 
eyes.  The  doctor  and  David  could  not  see  the 
color  of  his  eyes,  and  yet  he  seemed  to  them  a 
singularly  handsome  man,  as  he  did  to  almost 


80  ROUND  ANVIL  ROCK 

every  one.  There  was  something  about  him  that 
may  be  called  a  presence,  for  lack  of  a  better  term, 
something  which  drew  the  gaze  of  the  crowd 
and  held  it  everywhere.  Many  eyes  were  upon 
him  that  night  in  the  very  height  and  centre 
of  all  the  frenzy.  Glances  were  cast  at  him  even 
from  the  pulpit,  which  was  not  far  away.  One 
of  the  ministering  preachers  gave  him  a  look  of 
recognition,  and  then,  bending  down,  whispered 
in  the  ear  of  another  preacher,  a  very  young  man 
who  stood  below  the  pulpit  among  the  fallen, 
exhorting  them  to  repentance.  The  exhorter 
shook  off  the  whisperer  and  went  on  with  his  im- 
passioned plea.  He,  too,  was  well  worth  looking 
at,  and  better  worth  listening  to  —  this  inspired 
young  backwoodsman,  Peter  Cartwright.  His 
swarthy  face  was  pale  with  the  pallor  of  fanati- 
cism, and  his  dark  eyes  were  aflame  with  some 
mystic  fire.  His  long  black  hair  was  wildly 
blown  by  the  wind  which  bore  his  broken  words 
still  more  brokenly  :  — 

"  Such  a  time  as  this  has  not  been  seen  since  the 
day  of  Pentecost.  ...  A  sacred  flame  is  surely 
sweeping  sin  from  the  earth.  .  .  .  Come  all  ye. 
Take  up  your  cross  and  follow  Him.  .  .  Heaven's 
gate  stands  wide  to-night.  .  .  .  Praise  the  Lord  ! 
.  .  .  Come  in.  ...  Come  at  once.  .  .  .  Do  not 
delay  —  or  the  gate  may  close,  never  to  open 
again.  Come !  Come  with  me  to  the  mercy 
seat.  I  was  once  like  you.  My  soul,  like  yours, 
was  rent  in  agony.  I  wept,  I  strove,  I  prayed,  I 


THE  CAMP-MEETING  81 

was  in  utter  despair  .  .  .  just  as  you  are  now.  .  .  . 
Sometimes  it  seemed  as  if  I  could  almost  lay 
hold  on  the  Saviour.  .  .  .  Then — all  of  a  sudden 
— such  a  fear  of  the  devil  fell  upon  me  that  he 
appeared  to  stand  right  by  my  side  ready  to 
drag  me  down  to  hell.  But  I  prayed  on,  and  said, 
<  Lord  if  there  be  mercy  for  me,  let  me  find  it ! '.  .  . 
At  last,  in  the  midst  of  this  awful  struggle  of 
soul,  I  came  to  the  foot  of  the  altar  —  here  — 
where  I  am  begging  you  to  come.  .  .  .  And  then 
it  was  as  if  a  voice  out  of  heaven  said  to  me, 
'  Thy  sins  are  forgiven  thee.'  .  .  .  Glory  !  Glory  ! 
Delight  flashed  all  around  me.  Joy  unspeakable 
sprung  up  in  my  soul.  It  seemed  to  me  that  I 
was  already  in  paradise.  The  very  trees,  the 
very  leaves  on  the  trees,  seemed  to  be  singing 
together  and  praising  God.  .  .  .  Will  you  share 
this  divine  peace  with  me?  Will  you  come 
with  me  this  night  to  the  foot  of  the  cross  ?  .  .  . 
Then  come  now  —  now  —  for  this  may  be  the 
accepted  hour  of  your  salvation.  .  .  .  Come.  .  .  . 
If  you  wait,  you  are  lost  .  .  .  lost  1 " 

But  these  simple,  broken  words  are  only  the  cold 
and  lifeless  echo  of  Peter  Cartwright's  fiery,  liv- 
ing eloquence.  Nothing  can  ever  bring  that  back 
as  it  really  was.  None  may  hope  to  tell  those 
who  never  heard  him  what  it  was  like.  No  one, 
perhaps  among  the  numberless  thousands  who 
did  hear  him,  ever  knew  what  the  power  was,  by 
which  this  unlettered  backwoodsman  swayed 
multitudes  at  his  will.  Perhaps  David  after- 


82  ROUND   ANVIL  ROCK 

wards  described  it  as  nearly  as  any  one  could, 
when  he  said  that  the  mere  sound  of  Peter  Cart- 
wright's  voice  that  night  —  when  he  could  not 
hear  the  words  —  made  him  feel  so  sorry,  so 
grieved,  so  ashamed,  that  he  wanted  to  fall  down 
on  the  earth  and  hide  his  face  and  weep  like 
a  woman,  for  his  own  sins  and  the  sins  of  the 
whole  world. 

«  There  she  is  ! "  cried  the  doctor.  "  We  can 
reach  her  now." 

But  another  roaring  wave  of  humanity  dashed 
over  them,  sweeping  them  farther  from  Ruth  and 
nearer  the  pulpit.  They  were  so  near  that  they 
could  see  the  fire  that  flashed  over  the  pale 
darkness  of  the  young  preacher's  face  as  his 
brother  preacher  bent  down  for  the  second  time 
and  touched  him  warningly,  and  whispered 
again.  Peter  Cartwright,  who  was  still  bending 
over  the  men  and  women  lying  at  his  feet,  sud- 
denly stood  erect.  He  threw  back  his  long 
black  hair,  and  flung  a  flaming  glance  at  the 
tall  man  leaning  against  the  pillar.  And  then 
his  voice  rang  out  like  a  trumpet  calling  to 
combat. 

"  What  if  it  is  General  Jackson  ?  "  he  cried. 
"  What  is  Andrew  Jackson  but  a  sinner,  too  ? 
Let  him  come  with  the  rest  of  these  poor  sinners 
to  beg  for  pardon  before  the  throne  of  grace. 
And  let  him  make  haste  —  or  a  just  and  offended 
God  will  punish  him  as  if  he  were  the  lowest  of 
earth ! " 


THE   CAMP-MEETING  83 

The  challenge  sounded  clear  and  far.  It  must 
have  reached  the  ears  of  Andrew  Jackson,  the 
proud  and  feared  hero  of  many  battles.  No  man 
living  was  more  intolerant  of  indignity  or  quicker 
to  resent  the  slightest  affront.  An  alarmed  mur- 
mur circled  through  all  the  tumult ;  the  doctor  and 
David  heard  it  distinctly,  and  turned  with  those 
about  them  to  look  at  the  man  thus  challenged. 
But  Andrew  Jackson  himself  stood  quite  still 
and  gave  no  sign  that  he  had  heard.  He  barely 
bowed  his  head  when  a  short,  thick-set  man 
pressed  through  the  crowd  and  touched  his  arm. 
The  man  was  a  henchman  of  his,  widely  and  not 
favorably  known  in  the  country,  a  gambler  and 
adventurer  whose  name  was  Tommy  Dye.  He 
was  leading  the  general's  horse.  There  were  a 
few  words  between  them,  and  then  the  tall  figure 
vaulted  into  the  saddle  and  disappeared  in  the 
surrounding  blackness  of  the  forest. 

« Now  !  Here  she  is.  Quick ! "  cried  the 
doctor. 

So  crying,  he  plunged  into  the  storm-lashed  sea 
of  humanity  like  a  strong  swimmer.  The  boy  fol- 
lowed as  well  as  he  could,  using  all  his  strength,  but 
they  were  both  dashed  back  again  and  again,  till  at 
last  a  wilder  wave  caught  them  up  and  cast  them 
down  beside  Ruth.  Instantly  the  doctor  lifted  her 
in  his  arms  before  David  found  breath,  and  held 
her  as  lightly  as  if  she  had  been  but  a  wreath 
of  smoke  blown  across  his  breast.  Holding 
her  thus,  and  lifting  her  higher  above  those  wild 


84  ROUND  ANVIL  ROCK 

waves,  he  bore  her  through  them  as  if  they  had 
been  but  rippling  water.  On  and  on  he  went  to 
the  border  of  the  forest  beyond  the  tumult  where 
the  torchlight  was  brightest,  and  there  he  gently 
set  her  down.  And  then  all  alone  they  stood 
silently  looking  at  each  other.  They  were  still 
gazing  down  into  one  another's  faces,  when  the 
boy  ran  up,  panting.  At  the  sight  of  him  the  won- 
der went  out  of  Ruth's  blue  eyes,  and  the  fright 
came  back.  The  spell  was  broken,  and  she  re- 
membered where  she  was. 

"  David  !  Come  to  me.  Take  me  away  ! "  she 
cried.  "  Oh,  what  a  fearful  place  !  I  can  never 
forget  it  while  I  live.  Where  is  William  ?  We 
were  separated  by  the  crowd." 

But  even  as  she  spoke,  in  tones  that  trembled 
with  alarm,  while  yet  her  beautiful  face  was 
white  and  her  blue  eyes  full  of  tears,  there  came 
one  of  the  swift  changes  that  gave  her  beauty 
its  greatest  charm.  A  vivid  blush  dyed  her 
cheek,  the  long,  wet  lashes  suddenly  unveiled  a 
coquettish  glance,  there  was  a  dazzling  smile,  her 
hands  went  up  to  put  her  blown  hair  in  order, 
and  she  drew  on  the  forgotten  gypsy  bonnet 
which  was  hanging  by  its  strings  on  her  arm. 
She  drew  closer  to  the  boy,  but  she  looked  at 
the  doctor  over  her  shoulder. 

"  Who  is  this  gentleman,  David  ?  "  she  faltered. 
«  And  how  —  " 

Paul  Colbert  spoke  for  himself,  telling  her  his 
name. 


THE  CAMP-MEETING  85 

"  I  am  a  doctor  —  the  new  doctor  of  the 
neighborhood,"  he  said,  adding  with  a  smile,  « I 
beg  your  pardon.  There  was  no  other  way.  This 
young  gentleman  —  who  came  with  me  —  saw 
you.  We  had  been  trying  for  an  hour  or  more 
to  reach  you.  We  were  afraid  to  lose  the  first 
chance  to  get  you  out  of  that  dangerous  crush." 

His  voice  was  drowned  by  a  sudden  roar  which 
lifted  the  frenzy  higher  and  brought  it  nearer. 
The  color  and  smiles  fled  again  from  Ruth's  face, 
and  she  clung  to  David  in  greater  alarm. 

"  Take  me  home.  Oh  —  oh  —  isn't  it  terrible  ! 
I  can't  wait  to  find  William.  I  must  go  now.  I 
wouldn't  be  afraid  to  go  alone  with  you,  dear. 
Not  in  the  least  afraid.  Take  me  —  take  me ! " 

"  Come,  then,"  said  David.  "  The  pony's  over 
here." 

"  But  I  don't  know  where  my  horse  is.  I  don't 
know  where  William  tied  it.  I  am  so  turned 
round  that  I  don't  know  anything."  She  was 
beginning  to  smile  again  at  her  own  bewilder- 
ment. 

"  The  pony  can  take  us  both,"  said  the  boy. 

She  was  turning  away  with  him  when  the 
doctor  interfered  with  hesitating  eagerness  :  — 

"  If  you  will  permit  me  —  I  would  suggest 
that  your  friend  who  came  with  you  may  be 
anxious.  He  will  naturally  try  to  find  you. 
Not  knowing  that  you  are  gone,  he  must  be 
alarmed.  If  I  knew  him  by  sight,  I  could  find 
him  and  tell  him  —  " 


86  ROUND   ANVIL  ROCK 

Again  his  voice  was  lost  in  the  rising  roar  of 
the  multitude.  The  girl  buried  her  face  against 
the  boy's  shoulder,  shudderingly  and  trembling, 
and  burst  into  weeping. 

"  Tell  me  what  to  do,  David !  I  can't  bear 
this  any  longer,"  she  sobbed.  " Take  me 
away.  Tell  me  what  to  do  !  Oh !  Oh  !  "  put- 
ting her  shaking  hands  over  her  ears  to  shut 
out  the  dreadful  sounds. 

The  doctor  touched  her  arm.  "  If  you  would 
allow  me  to  take  you  home,  perhaps  this  young 
gentleman  could  stay  and  find  the  person  who 
came  with  you."  He  turned  quickly  to  the  boy. 
"  You  know  him  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  David  replied  unwillingly. 

His  heart  had  begun  to  beat  high.  Here  was 
a  better  chance  to  prove  himself  a  man  than  he 
had  dared  hope  for.  And  now  this  bold  stranger 
was  trying  to  rob  him  of  it.  He  struggled  with 
himself  for  a  moment,  before  he  could  give  it  up. 
But  Ruth  was  crying  and  trembling  and  clinging 
to  him. 

«I  will  find  William,"  he  then  said  hastily. 
"  Let  the  doctor  take  you  home." 

"  But  my  horse  is  lost,"  Ruth  lifted  her  head 
from  David's  shoulder  and  flashed  a  tearful, 
smiling  glance  at  the  doctor.  "How  can  you 
take  me  ?  " 

"Leave  it  to  me,"  Paul  Colbert  said  quickly, 
in  the  tone  of  a  man  used  to  meeting  emergen- 
cies. "  Come  with  me.  I  will  find  a  way." 


THE   CAMP-MEETING  87 

It  seemed  to  Ruth  and  David  that  he  was  one 
to  find  a  way  to  whatever  he  wished.  They  fol- 
lowed him  like  two  children,  to  the  spot  where 
his  horse  was  tied  beside  the  pony.  He  untied 
the  bridle  with  the  quickness  of  constant  prac- 
tice, and  sprang  into  the  saddle  with  the  ease 
of  the  practised  horseman.  He  threw  the  reins 
over  the  pommel,  and  then  bending  down,  held 
out  his  arms. 

"  Now  !  "  he  cried.  "  Give  the  young  lady  your 
hand  for  her  foot !  " 

David  hesitated,  not  understanding  what  he 
meant.  It  was  the  custom  for  the  women  of 
the  wilderness  to  ride  behind  the  men ;  but  it 
was  plain  that  this  was  not  the  young  doctor's 
intention.  He  sat  far  back  in  his  large  saddle, 
and  when  Ruth  set  her  foot  in  the  palm  of 
David's  hand,  and  fluttered  upward  like  a  freed 
bird,  he  caught  her  and  seated  her  before  him.  A 
word  to  his  horse  and  they  were  away.  He  was 
holding  Ruth  close  to  his  breast,  and  her  white 
garments  were  blown  about  him,  as  they  vanished 
in  the  black  wilderness. 


VII 

A   MORNING    IN    CEDAR    HOUSE 

IT  was  almost  morning  when  the  boy  and 
William  Pressley  reached  home.  David  did  not 
go  to  bed,  but  set  out  at  the  first  glimmer  of 
dawn  to  do  the  judge's  bidding,  calling  the  black 
men  to  go  with  him,  since  there  was  no  great 
glory  to  be  won  by  going  alone  in  the  day- 
light. There  was  time  for  a  little  rest  after  com- 
ing back,  and  it  was  still  very  early  when  he 
arose  from  his  bed  and  began  to  get  ready  for 
breakfast. 

He  looked  from  his  cabin  window  at  the 
river  which  always  drew  his  waking  gaze.  It 
was  sparkling  like  a  stream  of  liquid  diamonds 
under  the  flood  of  sunlight  pouring  over  the 
dazzled  earth.  The  fringing  rushes  rippled  as 
gently  as  the  water  under  the  snowy  breasts  of 
many  swans.  The  trees  along  the  shore  were 
freshly  green  and  newly  alive  with  the  color  and 
chatter  of  the  paroquets.  Looking  and  listening, 
he  thought  what  a  poetic  notion  it  was  that  these 
vivid  birds  should  carry  the  seed  pearls  of  the 
mistletoe  from  one  mighty  oak  to  another,  bear- 
ing the  tiny  treasures  in  the  wax  on  their  feet. 

88 


A  MORNING  IN   CEDAE  HOUSE  89 

Far  up  the  wide,  shining  river  a  great,  heavy- 
laden  barge  was  gliding  swiftly  down.  Its  worn 
and  clumsy  sail  seemed  as  white  and  graceful  as 
the  wings  of  the  swans  in  the  sun.  Its  dull  and 
tangled  coils  of  cordelles  caught  an  unwonted 
charm  from  the  sunbeams.  Its  merry  crew 
was  singing  a  song,  which  came  gayly  over  the 
flashing  water :  — 

"  Hi-ho,  the  boatmen  row, 
The  Kentuck  boys  and  the  0-hi-o. 
Dance,  the  boatmen,  dance, 
Dance,  the  boatmen,  dance ; 
Dance  all  night  till  broad  daylight, 
And  go  home  with  the  gals  in  the  mornin'." 

Watching  the  barge  pass  out  of  sight  beneath 
the  overhanging  trees,  David  turned  to  see  a 
small  dark  object,  leading  two  long  verging  lines 
of  silvery  ripples  across  the  glittering  current. 
This  cleft  the  water  near  the  Shawnee  Crossing, 
and  might,  not  long  before,  have  been  the  plumed 
head  of  a  warrior  wanting  his  canoe.  But  since 
the  warriors  were  all  gone  so  strangely  and  sud- 
denly, this  brown  speck  now  crossing  the  river 
must  have  been  the  antlered  head  of  a  deer  swim- 
ming to  the  other  side,  thus  giving  the  hunters 
warning  that  these  green  hills  would  soon  be 
white  with  snow.  If  so,  there  was  no  other  sign 
of  nearing  winter.  The  sombre  forest  stretching 
away  from  the  opposite  shore  had  not  yet  been 
brightened  by  a  touch  of  frost.  The  leaves  on 
the  near-by  trees,  the  great  oaks  and  elms  and 


90  ROUND  ANVIL  ROCK 

poplars  standing  around  Cedar  House,  were 
thinning  only  through  ripeness,  and  drifting  very 
slowly  down  to  the  green  and  growing  grass. 
On  the  tall  maples  perfection  alone  had  culled 
the  foliage,  so  wreathing  the  bronze  boughs  with 
rarer  garlands  of  fretted  gold. 

No  dread  of  wintry  storms  had  yet  driven 
away  any  of  the  birds  that  Ruth  fed  every 
day  on  the  sill  of  her  chamber  window.  They 
were  all  there  as  usual  —  the  whole  feathered 
colony  —  as  if  they  wished  to  be  polite,  even 
though  they  were  not  hungry  on  that  sunny 
morning.  The  little  ones,  to  be  sure,  pecked 
a  crumb  now  and  then  with  a  languid  indiffer- 
ence. The  blue  jays  —  as  usual  —  were  brazen 
in  their  ingratitude  for  any  dole  of  common- 
place crumbs,  while  spicy  seeds  were  still  strewn 
by  every  scented  breeze.  But  shy  and  bold  alike, 
they  all  flocked  around  Ruth's  window,  and  sat 
on  the  sill  within  reach  of  her  hand,  and  cocked 
their  pretty  heads  as  if  it  were  feast  enough  only 
to  look  at  her. 

She  had  already  been  downstairs  to  fetch  the 
birds'  breakfast,  and  had  gone  into  the  garden 
where  the  sweetest  and  reddest  roses  of  all  the 
year  were  still  blooming.  She  held  a  big  bunch 
of  them  in  her  hand  as  she  stood  at  the  open 
window  and  waved  it  at  David  in  a  morning 
greeting,  when  she  saw  him  crossing  the  yard. 
She  came  down  the  broad  stairs  as  he  entered 
the  great  room,  and  she  was  wearing  a  fresh 


A  MORNING  IN  CEDAR  HOUSE  91 

white  frock  and  her  arms  were  full  of  the  fra- 
grant red  roses. 

The  rest  of  the  family  were  already  in  the 
room,  and  the  table  was  laid  for  breakfast.  Ruth 
greeted  each  one  with  a  smile,  but  she  did  not 
speak,  and  began  to  move  quietly  about  the  table, 
giving  those  dainty  little  finishing  touches  which 
no  true  woman  ever  leaves  to  a  servant.  She 
put  some  of  the  roses  in  a  vase,  and  rearranged 
this  and  that,  moving  lightly  and  softly  about. 
Her  footsteps  were  as  soundless  as  the  fall  of 
tender  leaves,  and  her  garments  made  no  more 
rustle  than  the  unfolding  of  a  flower.  She  threw 
one  of  the  red  roses  at  David,  and  wafted  the 
judge  a  kiss.  Once  or  twice  she  turned  to  speak 
to  William,  but  forthwith  smilingly  gave  up  all 
thought  of  it  for  the  time  being. 

There  never  was  any  use  in  anybody's  trying 
to  speak  while  Miss  Penelope  was  in  the  height 
of  the  excitement  of  making  the  morning  coffee. 
An  opportunity  for  a  word  might  possibly  occur 
during  the  making  of  the  coffee  for  dinner  or 
supper.  Miss  Penelope  did  not  consider  this 
function  quite  so  solemn  a  ceremony  at  dinner  or 
supper  time.  Sometimes,  at  rare  intervals,  she 
had  been  known  to  allow  the  coffee  for  dinner  or 
supper  to  be  made  by  the  cook  in  the  kitchen. 
But  the  making  of  the  breakfast  coffee  was  a  very 
different  and  far  more  imposing  ceremonial. 
This  must  always  be  performed  in  the  presence  of 
the  entire  assembled  household,  by  her  own  hand, 


92  ROUND   ANVIL   ROCK 

on  the  wide  hearth  in  the  great  room  of  Cedar 
House.  To  have  permitted  the  cook  to  make  the 
morning  coffee  in  the  kitchen,  would  have  been  in 
Miss  Penelope's  eyes,  to  relegate  a  sacred  rite  to 
profane  hands  in  an  unconsecrated  place.  Her 
own  making  of  the  morning  coffee  had  indeed 
much  of  the  solemnity  of  a  religious  ceremony  — 
or  would  have  had,  if  those  who  looked  on, 
had  been  unable  to  hear,  or  even  slightly  dull  of 
hearing.  For  the  sound  of  Miss  Penelope's  voice 
was  charming  when  the  listener  could  not  hear 
what  it  said.  And  her  dulcet  tone  always  ran 
through  the  whole  performance  like  the  faint, 
sweet  echo  of  distant  music.  But  when  the 
listener's  ears  were  keen,  and  he  could  hear  the 
things  that  this  kind,  caressing  voice  was  saying, 
the  threats  that  it  was  uttering !  —  They  were 
alarming  enough  to  curdle  the  blood  of  the  little 
cup-bearers,  black,  brown,  and  yellow,  who 
always  flew  like  shuttles  back  and  forth  between 
the  big  house  and  the  distant  kitchen  while  Miss 
Penelope  was  making  the  breakfast  coffee.  It 
required  much  flying  of  small  dusky  legs,  to  and 
fro,  before  the  cold  water  was  cold  enough,  the  hot 
water  hot  enough,  and  the  fresh  egg  fresh  enough, 
to  satisfy  Miss  Penelope  that  the  coffee  would  be 
all  that  it  should  be. 

On  this  particular  morning  the  usual  excite- 
ment had  reached  its  crisis  as  Ruth  came  down 
the  stairs.  There  was  usually  a  slight  lull  when 
the  first  slender  and  almost  invisible  column  of 


A  MORNING  IN   CEDAE  HOUSE  93 

steam  arose  from  the  long  spout  of  the  coffee- 
pot. That  was  the  most  critical  moment,  and 
it  now  being  safely  past,  Miss  Penelope  hastily 
sent  away  all  the  cup-bearers  in  a  body.  But 
she  still  hovered  anxiously  over  the  pot,  gravely 
considering  how  many  minutes  longer  it  should 
rest  on  its  trivet  over  the  glowing  coals.  Hers 
was  a  quaint  little  figure.  She  wore  a  queer 
little  black  dress,  very  short  and  narrow,  made 
after  some  peculiar  fashion  of  her  own,  and 
over  it  a  queerer  little  cape  of  the  same  stuff. 
Her  cap  on  the  other  hand  was  singularly  large 
and 'white,  and  the  ruffle  around  her  face  was 
very  wide  and  very  stiff.  The  snapping  black 
eyes  under  the  ruffle  were  never  still,  and  the 
clawlike  little  hands  were  never  at  rest.  David 
in  his  idle  way  used  to  wonder  what  she  wor- 
ried about  and  fidgeted  over  in  her  sleep.  But 
it  was  hard  to  think  of  her  asleep ;  it  would 
have  been  easier  to  fancy  a  sleeping  weasel.  Nev- 
ertheless the  boy  liked  Miss  Penelope.  Ruth 
and  he  had  learned  while  they  were  little  chil- 
dren, that  there  was  no  unkindness  in  the  snap- 
ping of  her  sharp  little  black  eyes,  and  that  the 
terrible  things  she  said  were  as  harmless  as 
heat  lightning.  Even  the  little  cup-bearers, 
black,  brown,  and  yellow,  all  knew  how  kind- 
hearted  she  was,  and  did  not  mind  in  the  least 
the  most  appalling  threats  uttered  by  her  sweet, 
soft  voice.  She  always  gave  them  something 
before  she  sent  them  flying  back  to  the  cabins. 


94  ROUND   ANVIL   ROCK 

Everybody  liked  her  better  than  the  widow 
Broadnax  who  never  scolded  or  meddled  and  in- 
deed, rarely  spoke  at  all  to  any  one  upon  any 
subject.  For  the  household  had  long  since  come 
to  understand  that  this  lady,  like  many  another 
of  her  kind,  was  silent  mainly  because  she  had 
nothing  to  say ;  and  that  she  never  found  fault, 
simply  because  she  did  not  care.  Indifference 
like  hers  often  passes  for  amiability ;  and  that 
sort  of  motionless  silence  conceals  a  vacuum 
quite  as  often  as  it  covers  a  deep.  Only  one 
thing  ever  fully  aroused  the  widow  Broadnax  ; 
and  this  was  to  see  her  half-sister  taking  au- 
thority in  her  own  brother's  house.  And  indeed, 
that  were  enough  to  rouse  the  veriest  mollusk  of 
a  woman.  In  the  case  of  the  widow  Broadnax 
this  natural  feeling  was  not  at  all  affected  by 
the  fact  that  she  was  too  indolent  to  make 
the  exertion  to  claim  and  fill  her  rightful  place 
as  mistress  of  the  house.  It  did  not  matter 
in  the  least  that  she  lay  and  slept  like  a  sloth 
while  poor  little  Miss  Penelope  was  up  and 
working  like  a  beaver.  No  woman's  claims  ever 
have  anything  to  do  with  her  deserts ;  perhaps 
no  man's  ever  have  either;  perhaps  all  who  claim 
most  deserve  least.  At  all  events,  it  was  per- 
fectly natural  that  the  widow  Broadnax  should 
feel  as  truly  and  deeply  aggrieved  at  her  half- 
sister's  ruling  her  own  brother's  house,  as  if  she, 
herself,  had  been  the  most  energetic  and  capable 
of  housekeepers. 


A  MORNING  IN   CEDAR  HOUSE  95 

On  that  morning  her  dull  eyes  kept  an  un- 
wavering, unwinking  watch  over  the  coffee  mak- 
ing ;  as  they  always  did  over  every  encroachment 
upon  her  rights.  Her  heavy  eyelids  were  only 
partially  lifted,  yet  not  a  movement  of  Miss 
Penelope's  restless  little  body,  not  a  gesture  of 
her  nervous  little  hands  was  allowed  to  escape. 
Now  that  the  coffee  was  nearly  ready,  Miss  Penel- 
ope had  become  rather  more  composed.  She 
still  stood  guard  over  the  coffee-pot ;  she  never 
left  it  till  she  carried  it  to  the  table  with  her 
own  hands,  but  she  was  lapsing  into  a  sort  of  spent 
silence.  She  merely  sighed  at  intervals  with  the 
contented  weariness  that  comes  from  a  sense  of 
duty  well  done.  But  her  half-sister  still  eyed 
her  as  a  fat,  motionless  spider  eyes  a  buzzing 
little  fly  which  is  ceasing  to  flutter.  Miss  Penel- 
ope had  not  observed  a  large  pewter  cup  resting 
on  the  floor  near  the  widow  Broadnax's  chair.  It 
had  been  left  there  by  a  careless  servant,  who 
had  used  a  portion  of  the  mixture  of  red  paint  and 
sour  buttermilk  with  which  it  was  filled,  to  give 
the  wide  hearth  its  fine  daily  gloss.  Miss  Penel- 
ope had  not  observed  it  because  she  was  always 
oblivious  to  everything  else  while  hanging  over 
the  coffee-pot.  The  widow  Broadnax  had  seen 
the  cup  at  once  because  it  was  slightly  in  the  way 
of  her  foot ;  and  she  was  quick  enough  to  notice 
the  least  discomfort.  But  she  had  not  immedi- 
ately perceived  the  longed-for  opportunity  which 
it  gave  her.  That  came  like  an  inspiration  a 


96  ROUND  ANVIL   ROCK 

few  moments  later,  when  Miss  Penelope  was  off 
guard  for  an  instant.  Her  back  was  turned  only 
long  enough  for  her  to  go  to  the  table  and  see  if 
the  tray  was  ready  for  the  coffee-pot,  but  the 
widow  Broadnax  found  this  plenty  of  time.  With 
a  quickness  truly  surprising  in  one  of  her  habitual 
slowness,  she  swooped  down  and  seized  the  cup  of 
buttermilk  and  paint.  In  a  flash  she  lifted  the  lid 
of  the  coffee-pot,  poured  the  contents  of  the  cup 
in  the  coffee,  set  the  empty  cup  down  in  its  place, 
and  was  back  again,  resting  among  the  cushions 
as  if  she  had  never  stirred,  when  poor  little  Miss 
Penelope,  all  unsuspecting,  returned  to  her  post. 

"  You  really  must  get  up,  Sister  Molly,"  that 
lady  said  resolutely,  renewing  an  altercation. 
"  I  hid  the  pantry  keys  under  your  chair  cush- 
ions at  supper,  last  night.  That's  always  the 
safest  place.  But  I  forgot  to  take  them  out 
before  you  sat  down.  And  you  must  get  up  — 
there  isn't  enough  sugar  for  the  coffee." 

"  Let  me,"  said  Ruth,  coming  forward  with  a 
smile,  in  her  pretty,  coaxing  way. 

When  the  antagonism  between  the  sisters  broke 
into  open  hostility,  it  was  nearly  always  she  who 
managed  to  soothe  them  and  restore  a  tempo- 
rary semblance  of  peace  —  for  beyond  that  no  mor- 
tal power  could  go.  She  now  prevailed  upon  the 
widow  Broadnax  to  rise  with  her  assistance,  thus 
securing  the  keys,  and  when  that  lady  was  once 
on  her  feet  she  was  easier  to  move,  so  that  Ruth 
now  led  her  to  her  place  at  the  breakfast  table 


A  MORNING  IN   CEDAR  HOUSE  97 

without  further  trouble.  There  was,  however, 
always  more  or  less  trouble  about  the  place  itself. 
It  was  but  woman  nature  to  feel  it  to  be  very 
hard  for  a  whole  sister  to  sit  at  the  side  of  the 
table  while  a  half  sister  sat  at  its  head.  The 
judge  always  did  what  he  could  to  spare  her 
feelings,  and  Miss  Penelope's  at  the  same  time. 
He  was  a  bachelor,  and  held  women  in  the  half- 
gallant,  half-humorous  regard  which  sets  the 
bachelor  apart  from  the  married  man,  and  places 
him  at  a  disadvantage  which  he  is  commonly 
unaware  of.  The  judge  thought  he  understood 
the  distinctively  feminine  weaknesses  particularly 
well,  and  that  he  made  uncommonly  large  allow- 
ance for  them,  as  the  bachelor  always  thinks  and 
never  does.  And  then  when  the  quarrel  reached 
a  crisis,  and  he  was  entirely  at  the  end  of  his 
resources  for  keeping  the  peace,  he  could  always 
threaten  to  take  to  the  woods,  and  that  usually 
brought  a  short  truce. 

"  Ruth,  my  dear,  what's  all  this  about  some 
stranger's  bringing  you  home  last  night  ?  "  he  in- 
quired, taking  his  seat  at  the  foot  of  the  table. 
"  Where  were  you,  William  ?  and  what  were  you 
doing?  You  shouldn't  have  taken  Ruth  to  such 
a  place,  or  anywhere,  if  you  couldn't  take  care 
of  her,"  with  unusual  severity. 

Ruth  sprang  to  William's  defence.  She  said 
that  it  was  not  his  fault.  They  were  separated 
by  the  crowd.  He  had  done  his  best,  and  all 
that  any  one  could  have  done. 


98  ROUND  ANVIL  ROCK 

"  I  made  William  take  me.  He  didn't  want 
to  do  it.  And  I  am  not  sorry  that  I  went,  al- 
though I  was  so  much  frightened  at  the  time. 
Without  seeing  it,  no  one  can  ever  know  what 
this  strange  and  awful  thing  is  like.  No  de- 
scription can  possibly  describe  it,"  she  said,  with 
darkening  eyes  and  rising  color. 

"  A  most  shocking  and  improper  scene,"  said 
William  Pressley,  as  one  who  weighs  his  words. 
"  A  most  shocking  and  improper  scene." 

Ruth  looked  at  him  wonderingly. 

"  Shocking  —  improper  !  "  she  faltered,  perplex- 
edly. "  What  a  strange  way  to  think  of  it.  To 
me  it  was  a  great,  grave,  terrible  spectacle.  The 
awe  of  it  overwhelmed  me,  alarmed  as  I  was. 
Why,  it  was  like  seeing  the  Soul  universal  — 
bared  and  quivering." 

William  Pressley  said  nothing  more.  He  never 
discussed  anything.  Once  he  had  spoken,  the 
subject  seemed  to  him  finally  disposed  of. 

"  Great  Grief ! "  cried  Miss  Penelope  in  the 
blankest  amazement  and  the  greatest  dismay. 
«  For  the  land's  sake  !  " 

As  the  faithful  high-priestess  of  the  coffee-pot 
she  was  always  the  first  to  taste  her  own  brew. 
She  now  set  her  cup  down  hastily.  Her  red, 
wrinkled  little  face  was  a  study.  The  widow 
Broadnax,  whose  cup  was  untouched,  sat  silent 
and  impassive  as  usual,  regarding  her  with  the 
same  dull,  half-open,  unwinking  gaze. 

"  What  under  the  sun  !  "  gasped  Miss  Penelope, 


A  MORNING  IN   CEDAR  HOUSE  99 

still  more  and  more  amazed  and  dismayed,  and 
growing  angry  as  she  rallied  from  the  shock. 

"  Come,  come !  —  if  I  can't  eat  breakfast  in 
peace,  I'll  take  to  the  woods.  What's  the  mat- 
ter ?  "  exclaimed  the  judge.  "  Didn't  you  get 
the  coffee  made  to  suit  you,  after  all  that 
rumpus  ?  Isn't  it  good  ?  " 

"  Good  ! "  shrieked  Miss  Penelope.  "  It's  pois- 
oned, I  do  believe  !  Don't  drink  it,  any  of  you, 
if  you  value  your  lives  !  " 

"  Oh,  nonsense  ! "  said  the  judge.  "  You  are 
too  hard  to  please,  Sister  Penelope.  And  you 
spoil  the  rest  of  us,  making  the  coffee  yourself. 
Never  mind  —  never  mind  !  " 

He  took  a  sip  and  made  a  wry  face,  but  he 
hardly  ever  knew  what  he  was  eating,  and  push- 
ing the  cup  back,  forgot  all  about  it.  He  was 
more  interested  in  Ruth's  account  of  the  meet- 
ing, and  asked  many  questions  about  her  ride 
home. 

"This  young  doctor  must  be  a  fine  fellow," 
he  said.  "  I  have  been  hearing  a  good  deal  about 
him  from  Father  Orin.  They  are  already  great 
friends,  it  seems.  They  meet  often  among  the 
poor  and  the  sick,  and  work  together.  I  hope, 
my  dear,  that  you  thought  to  ask  him  to  call. 
You  remembered,  didn't  you,  to  tell  him  that  the 
latch-string  of  Cedar  House  always  hangs  on  the 
outside  ?  I  want  to  thank  him  and  then  I  should 
like  to  know  such  a  man.  He  is  an  addition  to 
the  community." 


100  ROUND  ANVIL   ROCK 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  thought  of  that,  of  course,"  said 
Ruth,  simply.  "  I  told  him  I  knew  you  and 
William  would  like  to  thank  him.  He  is  com- 
ing to-day.  I  hope,  uncle  Robert,  that  you  will 
be  here  when  he  does  come." 

"  I  shall  be  here  to  thank  him,"  said  William. 
« Uncle  need  take  no  trouble  in  the  matter.  I 
will  do  all  that  is  necessary." 

A  woman  must  be  deeply  in  love  before  she 
likes  to  hear  the  note  of  ownership  in  a  man's 
voice  when  speaking  of  herself.  Ruth  was  not 
at  all  in  love  —  in  that  way  —  although  she  did 
not  yet  know  that  she  was  not.  The  delicate 
roses  of  her  cheeks  deepened  suddenly  to  the  tint 
of  the  rich  red  ones  which  she  held  again  in  her 
hands.  Her  blue  eyes  darkened  with  revolt,  and 
she  gave  William  a  clear,  level  look,  throwing 
up  her  head.  Then  her  soft  heart  smote  her, 
and  her  gentle  spirit  reproached  her.  She  be- 
lieved William  Pressley  to  be  a  good  man,  and 
she  was  ever  ready  to  feel  herself  in  the  wrong. 
She  got  up  in  a  timid  flurry  and  went  to  the 
door  and  stood  a  moment  looking  out  at  the 
sunlit  river.  Presently  she  quietly  returned,  and 
shyly  pausing  behind  William's  chair,  rested  her 
hand  on  the  back  of  it.  There  was  a  timid 
apology  in  the  gesture.  She  was  thinking  only 
of  her  own  shortcomings.  Had  she  been  criti- 
cal of  him  or  even  observant,  she  would  have 
seen  that  there  was  something  peculiarly  charac- 
teristic in  the  very  way  that  he  handled  his  knife 


A  MORNING  IN   CEDAR  HOUSE  101 

and  fork ;  a  curious,  satisfied  self-consciousness 
in  the  very  lift  of  his  wrists  which  seemed  to 
say  that  this,  and  no  other,  was  the  correct  man- 
ner of  eating,  and  that  he  disapproved  of  every- 
body else's  manner.  But  she  saw  nothing  of 
the  kind,  for  hers  was  not  the  poor  affection 
that  stands  ever  ready  to  pick  flaws.  He  did 
not  know  that  she  was  near  him  until  the  judge 
spoke  to  her ;  and  then  he  sprang  to  his  feet  at 
once.  He  was  much  too  fine  a  gentleman  to 
keep  his  seat  while  any  lady  stood.  Ruth  smil- 
ingly motioned  him  back  to  his  chair,  and  going 
round  the  table,  leant  over  the  judge's  shoulder. 
He  had  been  examining  a  packet  of  legal  papers, 
and  he  laid  a  yellow  document  before  her, 
spreading  it  out  on  the  tablecloth. 

"  You  were  asking  the  other  day  about  the 
buffalo  —  when  they  were  here,  and  so  on.  Now, 
listen  to  this  old  note  of  hand,  dated  the  fifteenth 
of  October,  seventeen  hundred  and  ninety-two, 
just  nineteen  years  ago.  Here  it  is :  <  For  value 
Rec'd,  I  promise  to  pay  Peter  Wilson  or  his 
Agent,  twenty  pounds  worth  of  good  market 
Buffalo  Beef  free  from  Boone,  to  be  delivered  at 
Red  Banks  on  the  Ohio  River,  or  at  aney  other 
place  that  he  or  his  shall  salt  beef  on  the  banks 
of  said  river,  and  aney  time  in  the  ensuing  fawl 
before  this  fawl's  hunting  is  over.'  There  now, 
my  dear !  That  would  seem  to  prove  that  there 
were  plenty  of  buffalo  hereabouts  not  long  ago. 
A  hundred  dollars  in  English  gold  must  have 


102  ROUND   ANVIL   ROCK 

bought  a  large  amount  of  wild  meat.  If  this 
meant  Virginia  pounds  it  was  still  a  great  deal. 
And  the  hunter  who  drew  this  note  must  have 
known  how  he  was  going  to  pay  it." 

"Rachel  Robards  says  there  were  lots  of 
buffalo  when  she  came,"  said  Miss  Penelope,  who 
was  gradually  recovering  from  the  shock  of 
tasting  the  coffee,  and  now  prudently  thought 
best  to  say  no  more  about  the  matter.  "  I  al- 
ways call  her  Rachel  Robards,  because  I  knew 
her  so  well  by  that  name.  I  am  not  a-disputing 
her  marriage  with  General  Jackson.  If  she 
wasn't  married  to  him  when  she  first  thought 
she  was,  she  is  now,  hard  and  fast  enough.  I 
have  got  nothing  to  say  about  that  one  way  or 
another.  As  a  single  woman,  it  don't  become 
me  to  be  a-talking  about  such  matters.  But 
married  or  not  married,  I  have  always  stood  up 
for  Rachel  Robards.  Lewis  Robards  would  have 
picked  a  fuss  with  the  Angel  Gabriel,  let  alone 
a  fire-eater  like  Andrew  Jackson.  Give  the  devil 
his  due.  But  all  the  same,  if  Andrew  Jackson 
does  try  to  chastise  Peter  Cartwright  for  what 
he  said  last  night,  there's  a-going  to  be  trouble. 
Now  mark  my  word  !  I  know  as  well,  and  better 
than  any  of  you,  that  Peter  is  only  a  boy.  Many's 
the  time  that  I've  seen  his  mother  take  off  her 
slipper  and  turn  him  across  her  lap.  And  she 
never  hit  him  a  lick  amiss,  either.  But  that's 
neither  here  nor  there.  His  being  young  don't 
keep  me  from  seeing  that  he  has  surely  got  the 


A  MORNING  IN   CEDAR  HOUSE  103 

Gift.  It  don't  make  any  difference  that  he  hasn't 
cut  his  wisdom  teeth,  as  they  say.  What  if  he 
hasn't?"  demanded  Miss  Penelope,  with  the 
most  singular  contrast  between  her  mild  tone  and 
her  fierce  words.  "  What  has  the  cutting  of  wis- 
dom teeth  got  to  do  with  preaching,  when  the 
preacher  has  been  given  the  Gift ! " 

So  speaking,  she  suddenly  started  up  from  the 
table  with  an  exclamation  of  surprise,  and  ran 
to  the  open  door. 

«  Peter  !  Oh,  Peter  Cartwright ! "  she  called. 
"  Wait  —  stop  a  minute.  To  think  of  your  going 
by  right  at  the  very  minute  that  we  were  a-talk- 
ing  about  you  ! " 

She  went  out  under  the  trees  where  the  square- 
built,  stern-faced,  swarthy  young  preacher  had 
brought  his  horse  to  a  standstill. 

"  Now,  Peter,  you  surely  ain't  a-going  up  to 
the  court-house  to  see  Andrew  Jackson,"  she  said 
in  sudden  alarm. 

"  No,  no,  not  now,"  said  Peter,  hurriedly. 
"  I  am  riding  fast  to  keep  an  appointment  to 
preach  on  the  other  side  of  the  river." 

"  But  you  can  stop  long  enough  to  eat  breakfast. 
I  lay  you  haven't  had  a  bite  this  blessed  day." 

Peter  shook  his  head,  gathering  up  the  reins. 

"  And  ten  to  one  that  you  haven't  got  a  cent 
of  money  ! "  Miss  Penelope  accused  him. 

Peter's  grim  young  face  relaxed  in  a  faint 
smile.  He  put  his  hand  in  his  pocket  and  drew 
out  two  small  pieces  of  silver. 


104  ROUND   ANVIL  ROOK 

"  Ah,  ha,  I  knew  it ! "  exulted  Miss  Penel- 
ope. "  Now  do  wait  just  one  minute  till  I  run 
in  the  house  and  get  you  some  money." 

"  No,  no,  there  isn't  time.  I'll  miss  my 
appointment  to  preach.  I  will  get  along  some- 
how. Thank  you  —  good-by." 

Miss  Penelope,  reaching  up,  seized  the  bridle- 
reins  and  held  on  by  main  force  with  one  hand 
while  she  rummaged  in  her  out  pocket  with  the 
other. 

"  There !  —  here  are  three  bits  —  every  cent 
I've  got  with  me,"  she  said  indignantly,  shoving 
it  in  his  hand.  "  Well,  Peter  Cartwright,  if 
your  mother  could  know  —  " 

But  the  young  backwoodsman,  whose  fame 
was  already  filling  the  wilderness,  and  was  to  fill 
the  whole  Christian  world,  now  pressed  on  riding 
fast,  and  was  soon  beyond  her  kind  scolding. 

"  Well,  'pon  my  word !  Did  anybody  ever 
see  the  like  of  that ! "  she  cried,  seeing  that  Ruth 
had  followed  her  to  the  door.  "  That  boy  don't 
know  half  the  time  whether  he  has  had  anything 
to  eat  or  not.  And  it's  just  exactly  the  same 
to  him  when  he's  got  money  and  when  he 
hasn't." 

The  girl  did  not  hear  what  Miss  Penelope 
said.  Her  heart  was  responding,  as  it  always 
did,  to  everything  great  or  heroic,  and  she  looked 
after  this  boy  preacher  with  newly  opened  eyes. 
She  suddenly  saw  as  by  a  flash  of  white  light, 
that  he  and  the  other  pioneer  men  of  God  —  these 


A  MORNING  IN   CEDAR  HOUSE  105 

soldiers  of  the  cross  who  were  bearing  it  through 
the  trackless  wilderness  —  were  of  the  greatest. 
Her  dim  eyes  followed  the  young  man  —  this 
brave  bearer  of  the  awful  burden  of  the  divine 
mission  —  watching  him  press  on  to  the  river. 
She  thought  of  the  many  rivers  that  he  must 
swim,  the  forests  that  he  must  thread,  the  sav- 
ages that  he  must  contend  against,  the  wild 
beasts  that  he  must  conquer,  the  plague  that  he 
must  defy,  the  shelterless  nights  that  he  must 
sleep  under  the  trees  —  freezing,  starving,  strug- 
gling through  winter's  cold  and  summer's  heat, 
and  all  for  the  love  of  God  and  the  good  of 
mankind. 


VIII 

THE    LOG    TEMPLE    OF    JUSTICE 

MOST  of  those  dauntless  soldiers  who  first  bore 
the  cross  through  the  wilderness  were  as  ready 
to  fight  as  to  pray  —  as  they  had  to  be.  No 
power  of  earth  or  evil  which  he  had  been  able 
to  combat  could  have  turned  young  Peter  Cart- 
wright  that  day  or  have  held  him  back.  Press- 
ing on  without  rest  or  food,  he  was  in  time  to 
preach.  When  this  duty  was  done,  he  returned 
over  the  Shawnee  Crossing  and  rode  straight  to 
the  court-house.  To  go  there  was  in  his  eyes 
the  next  service  due  the  Word. 

The  court-house  was  a  single  large,  low  room 
built  of  rough  logs,  and  standing  in  the  depths 
of  the  primeval  forest.  Great  trees  arched  their 
branches  over  its  roof  and  the  immemorial  "  Oh, 
yes,  oh,  yes,  oh,  yes,"  went  up  through  their 
heavy  dark  tops.  It  must  have  been  strange 
thus  to  hear  this  formal  summons  before  the  bar 
of  human  justice,  strange  indeed  to  see  the  pre- 
cise motion  of  man's  law  in  so  wild  a  spot. 
Roundabout  there  still  stretched  the  wilderness 
which  is  subject  only  to  nature's  law  —  the  one 
immutable  law  which  takes  no  heed  of  justice 

106 


THE  LOG  TEMPLE  OF  JUSTICE  107 

or  mercy ;  which  recks  neither  man's  needs  nor 
his  deserts. 

The  court-house  in  the  wilderness  stood  quite 
alone,  with  no  other  building  near.  There  was 
not  even  a  fence  round  it,  nor  so  much  as  a 
h itching-post  in  front  of  the  rude  door  which 
was  rarely  closed.  Those  who  came  —  the  judge, 
the  jury,  the  lawyers,  the  clients,  the  spectators  — 
all  hitched  their  horses  to  the  swinging  limbs  of 
the  trees.  The  sole  sign  of  man's  handiwork, 
beyond  the  log  walls  of  the  court-house  itself, 
was  a  crude  attempt  at  bridge-building.  A  creek 
ran  between  the  court-house  and  the  home  of 
Judge  Knox,  who  was  the  judge  of  the  court, 
and  over  this  a  few  rough  boards  had  been 
loosely  laid  across  two  rotting  logs.  The  struc- 
ture being  both  weak  and  unsteady,  it  was  the 
judge's  habit  to  dismount  on  coming  to  the 
bridge  and  to  cross  it  on  foot,  leading  his  horse 
by  the  bridle.  It  was  then  but  a  stone's  throw 
to  the  court-house,  and  as  he  was  heavy,  clumsy, 
and  an  awkward  rider,  he  did  not  mount  again, 
but  walked  on  till  he  came  to  the  spot  where  he 
always  stopped  to  tie  the  bridle  to  the  same  limb. 
And  there  he  invariably  tied  it  in  his  absent- 
minded  way,  without  ever  thinking  of  looking 
round  to  see  if  the  horse  was  tied  with  the 
bridle.  Sometimes  he  was  and  again  he  was 
not,  for  this  was  as  that  sagacious  and  dignified 
animal  himself  thought  best.  He  commonly 
made  up  his  mind  upon  this  point  when  they 


108  ROUND  ANVIL   ROCK 

got  to  the  bridge,  where  he  could  tell  easily 
enough  by  the  judge's  gait  in  crossing  over, 
whether  or  not  it  would  be  advisable  to  follow. 
If  the  horse  then  saw  fit  to  turn  back  and  go 
home,  as  a  hint  to  the  family  to  send  for  the  judge 
at  the  proper  time,  he  never  hesitated  to  pull  his 
head  out  of  the  old  bridle  which  he  could  do 
very  easily.  So  that  the  judge  sometimes  went 
on  and  tied  the  empty  bridle  in  the  usual  place, 
never  knowing  the  difference ;  while  his  horse 
calmly  turned  round  and  soberly  walked  back 
to  the  stable.  Seeing  him  thus  pass  the  win- 
dows, the  good  people  of  Cedar  House  sighed 
a  little,  and  shook  their  heads,  but  they  never- 
theless always  knew  exactly  what  to  do. 

On  this  late  October  day,  however,  the  horse 
followed  the  judge  without  demur,  assured  by  his 
own  observation  that  all  was  right.  The  judge, 
honest,  simple  soul,  rarely  failed  to  turn  over  a 
new  leaf  and  make  a  fresh  start  on  the  morning 
after  the  meeting  of  the  grand  jury,  which 
gravely  and  respectfully  found  an  indictment 
against  him  almost  as  regularly  at  it  met.  He 
had  already  assessed  and  —  gravely  ordering  it 
written  up  —  paid  his  own  fine  on  this  occasion 
without  a  murmur,  as  he  always  did,  and  he  was 
now  quite  sober  and  ready  to  resume  his  place  on 
the  bench.  He  had  held  it  for  a  long  time  to 
the  public  satisfaction  ;  and  he  continued  to  hold 
it  for  many  years  afterward  with  honor,  abil- 
ity, and  distinction,  notwithstanding  these  occa- 


THE   LOG  TEMPLE  OF  JUSTICE  109 

sional  lapses.  His  one  weakness  was  of  course 
well  known  but  his  profound  knowledge  of  the 
law,  and  his  unimpeachable  integrity  were  still 
better  known.  It  was  said  of  him  that  he  never 
had  anything  to  say  which  could  not  be  shouted 
out  from  the  court-house  door.  And  these  quali- 
ties were  sorely  needed  on  the  bench  of  the  wil- 
derness, more  sorely  needed  at  this  time  than 
ever  before  or  since. 

The  whole  country  had  lately  been  overrun  by 
open  and  defiant  lawlessness.  It  was  fast  com- 
ing to  be  known  far  and  wide  as  «  Rogue's  Har- 
bor." It  had  already  become  the  recognized 
refuge  and  hiding-place  of  the  outcasts  from  the 
older  states.  The  breakers  of  all  laws  human 
and  divine,  —  the  makers  of  counterfeit  money, 
the  forgers  of  land  titles,  the  stealers  of  horses, 
robbers,  murderers,  thieves  and  criminals  of  every 
sort  and  condition,  the  fine  gentleman  and  the 
ruffian,  the  duelist  and  the  assassin  —  all  these 
were  now  flocking  to  Rogue's  Harbor.  Once 
there,  they  were  not  long  content  merely  to  find 
a  hiding  place  from  the  wrath  of  broken  law  and 
outraged  civilization.  They  were  soon  seeking 
and  finding  opportunity  to  commit  other  and 
worse  offences.  It  was  no  longer  a  secret  that 
regular  stations  of  outlawry  were  firmly  estab- 
lished between  Natchez  on  the  one  side  and  Duff's 
Fort  on  the  other.  The  most  dreaded  of  these 
were  known  to  be  within  the  new  state's  border 
along  the  line  of  the  Wilderness  Road,  although 


110  ROUND  ANVIL   ROCK 

the  law  had  not  been  able  to  lay  its  hand  upon 
them.  And  thus  was  southern  Kentucky  now 
bound,  blinded  and  helpless,  in  a  long,  strong, 
bloody  chain  of  crime. 

It  was  knowing  this  and  feeling  his  own  re- 
sponsibility and  powerlessness  that  made  the 
judge's  good-humored  face  stern  on  that  October 
morning.  It  was  this  which  made  his  absent- 
minded  eyes  clear  and  keen  as  he  drew  near  the 
court-house.  He  had  come  earlier  than  usual  but 
others,  equally  anxious,  were  there  before  him. 
And  then  the  court-house  was  in  a  way  the  mart 
of  the  whole  region,  especially  for  the  sale  of 
horses.  Rough-looking  men  with  the  marks  of 
the  stable  and  the  race-track  upon  them,  were 
riding  the  best  quarter  nags  up  and  down  the 
forest  path  and  pointing  out  the  delicate  leg,  the 
well-proportioned  head,  and  the  elegant  form, 
which  made  the  traits  of  the  first  race-horses  in 
Kentucky.  Foremost  among  these  first  men  of 
the  turf  was  Tommy  Dye,  scanning  the  quarter 
nags  with  a  trained  eye.  As  soon  as  the  judge 
saw  him,  he  knew  that  General  Jackson  was  not 
far  away,  for  wherever  the  general  went,  there 
also  was  to  be  found  his  faithful  henchman, 
Tommy  Dye.  It  was  he  who  arranged  the  cock- 
fights in  which  the  general  delighted,  declaring  a 
game  cock  to  be  the  bravest  thing  alive.  It  was 
he  who  was  always  trying  to  find  for  him  a  race- 
horse which  could  beat  Captain  Haynie's  Maria. 
This  famous  racer  had  beaten  the  general's  Deca- 


THE  LOG  TEMPLE  OF  JUSTICE  111 

tur  in  that  year's  sweepstakes,  and  he  had  sworn 
by  his  strongest  oath  that  he  would  find  a 
horse  to  beat  her  if  there  was  one  in  the  world 
that  could  do  it.  But  Tommy  Dye  and  other 
eager,  tireless  agents  of  the  general  had  already 
searched  far  and  wide.  They  had  gone  over  all 
the  horse-raising  states  with  a  drag-net,  they  had 
sent  as  far  as  other  countries.  And  no  horse 
which  even  promised  to  beat  Maria  had  yet  been 
found,  so  that  the  general's  defeat  was  still 
rankling  bitterly,  for  it  was  the  bitterest  that  he 
had  ever  met  or  ever  was  to  meet.  He  did  not 
feel  his  defeat  in  the  first  race  for  the  Presidency 
nearly  so  deeply  and  keenly  as  this ;  and  then 
that  was  afterward  retrieved  by  a  most  brill- 
iant victory.  But,  as  a  friend  once  said  of  him  — 
although  he  went  on  achieving  great  victories  of 
many  kinds,  overcoming  powerful  enemies,  con- 
quering the  Indians,  subduing  the  lawless,  defy- 
ing the  Spanish  and  the  French,  vanquishing  the 
British  and  slaying  single-handed  the  Dragon  of 
the  Bank  —  he  could  never  find  a  horse  to  beat 
Maria. 

But  he  was  still  trying  everywhere  and  under 
all  circumstances  however  unpromising.  On  that 
day  he  cast  anxious  glances  through  the  open 
door  of  the  log  court-house  at  the  horses  which 
Tommy  Dye,  in  a  forlorn  hope,  was  having 
paraded  up  and  down  the  forest  path.  He  turned 
away  with  a  sigh,  and  went  on  talking  to  the 
United  States  Attorney  for  Kentucky  at  whose 


112  ROUND  ANVIL   ROCK 

request  he  had  come  to  the  court-house  that  day. 
He  had  done  for  his  own  territory  in  a  lesser 
degree,  the  identical  thing  which  Joseph  Hamilton 
Daviess  was  desperately  striving  to  do  for  this 
country ;  and  he  had  consented  to  give  him  the 
benefit  of  his  own  experience,  and  to  advise  him  as 
to  ways  and  means.  These  were  always  strenuous 
with  Andrew  Jackson,  and  Joe  Daviess  himself 
was  not  a  man  of  half  measures.  In  mind  and 
body  he  was  quite  as  powerful  as  the  man  to 
whom  he  now  listened  with  such  profound  defer- 
ence. He  was  also  a  handsomer  man  and  younger. 
He  was  fully  as  tall,  too,  with  as  lordly  a  bearing  ; 
the  most  marked  contrast  in  their  appearance 
being  in  their  dress.  General  Jackson  wore  broad- 
cloth of  the  cut  seen  in  all  his  older  portraits  ;  Joe 
Daviess  wore  buckskin  breeches  and  a  hunting 
shirt  belted  at  the  waist,  both  richly  fringed  on 
the  leg  and  sleeve.  The  suit  was  the  same  that  he 
had  worn  when  he  rode  over  the  Alleghanies  to 
Washington,  to  plead  the  historic  case  before  the 
Supreme  Court.  But  the  rudest  garb  could  never 
make  him  seem  other  than  the  courtly  gentle- 
man that  he  was.  He  was  a  scholar  moreover, 
and  a  writer  of  books.  A  great  mind,  and  ever 
eager  to  learn,  he  now  stood  listening  to  General 
Jackson  with  the  humility  of  true  greatness. 
He  bowed  to  the  judge,  seeing  him  enter,  but  he 
did  not  move  or  cease  to  listen.  His  grave,  in- 
tent face  brightened  suddenly  as  if  a  light  had 
passed  over  it,  when  he  saw  Father  Grin's  merry, 


THE   LOG  TEMPLE   OF  JUSTICE  113 

ruddy  countenance  look  in  at  the  open  door. 
He  and  the  priest  were  close  friends,  although 
they  held  widely  different  faiths,  and  argued 
fiercely  over  their  differences  of  opinion  when- 
ever they  met  —  and  had  time  —  and  notwith- 
standing that  neither  ever  yielded  to  the  other 
so  much  as  a  single  hair's  breadth. 

Father  Orin  now  came  straight  toward  him, 
merely  nodding  and  smiling  at  those  whom  he 
passed,  and  reaching  Joe  Daviess'  side,  he  coolly 
ran  his  hand  deep  down  in  his  friend's  pocket, 
precisely  as  if  it  had  been  his  own.  The 
attorney-general  made  believe  to  strike  out  back- 
ward with  his  left  hand  —  his  right  being  full 
of  papers.  But  he  laughed,  and  he  did  not  turn 
his  head  to  see  how  much  money  the  priest  had 
taken  and  was  calmly  transferring  to  his  own 
pocket.  And  then,  chuckling  and  nodding  his 
gray  head,  Father  Orin  quietly  made  his  way 
round  the  court  room,  keeping  close  to  the  wall, 
and  taking  care  to  pass  behind  the  jury  which 
sat  on  a  bench  of  boards  laid  across  two  logs. 
He  was  now  making  his  way  to  the  little  plat- 
form of  logs  on  which  the  judge  was  sitting. 
The  judge  saw  him  coming  and  hastily  shook  his 
head,  knowing  from  long  experience  what  he  was 
coming  for.  But  Father  Orin  only  chuckled 
more  merrily  and  drew  nearer.  When  he  put 
out  his  hand  the  judge  surrendered,  knowing 
how  useless  it  would  be  to  resist  while  a  few 
Spanish  dollars  or  even  a  few  bits  of  cut  money 


114  ROUND   ANVIL  ROCK 

were  left  in  his  wallet,  or  there  was  want  in  the 
wilderness  which  the  priest's  persistence  could 
relieve.  But  his  left  eyebrow  went  up  very  high 
in  a  very  acute  angle,  as  he  leant  far  over  to  one 
side  and  ran  his  hand  into  the  depths  of  his 
breeches  pocket. 

"  There  !  "  he  said,  handing  over  what  he  had. 
"  I  am  glad  I  haven't  got  any  more.  Hereafter, 
when  I  see  you  coming,  I'm  going  to  take 
to  the  woods.  Much  or  little,  you  always  get  all 
there  is,"  he  said,  ostentatiously  buttoning  the 
flap  over  his  empty  pocket.  "  Oh,  by  the  way, 
Father,  somebody  wants  you  over  yonder  in 
that  corner.  Those  men,  standing  there,  asked 
me  just  now  if  I  knew  where  you  were.  They 
have  got  into  some  sort  of  a  snarl,  and  they  want 
you  to  straighten  it  out." 

"  Very  well,  I  will  go  and  see,"  said  the 
priest,  simply,  being  used  to  all  sorts  of  calls, 
temporal  as  well  as  spiritual. 

The  two  men  had  already  seen  him,  and  were 
standing  to  receive  him  when  he  came  up.  One 
of  them  was  a  member  of  his  own  church  and 
known  to  him  as  a  man  of  large  affairs.  The 
other,  a  lawyer  and  a  Protestant,  he  had  a  much 
slighter  acquaintance  with.  It  was  the  lawyer 
who  spoke  after  both  had  greeted  him  warmly, 
as  if  they  felt  his  appearance  to  be  a  relief. 

"  We  have  been  hoping  you  might  come.  We 
are  in  trouble  and  think  you  are  the  man  to 
help  us  set  matters  right,"  said  the  lawyer. 


THE   LOG   TEMPLE  OF  JUSTICE  115 

"  What  is  it  ? "  laughed  Father  Orin.  « I 
don't  know  anything  about  law." 

The  lawyer  laughed  too.  "  Well,  you  see, 
Father,  it  isn't  law  exactly.  That  is,  not  the  kind 
of  law  that  I  know.  That's  just  where  you 
come  in.  It's  this  way.  My  client  here  has 
won  a  suit.  He  was  bound  to  win  it  and  I  told 
him  so  before  it  came  to  trial.  The  law  was 
clear  enough.  But  you  see,  Father,  law  isn't 
always  justice.  You  can  keep  within  the  law 
and  do  mighty  mean  things.  And  my  client 
here  doesn't  want  to  do  anything  that  isn't  right. 
He,  as  you  know,  is  a  clean,  straight  man.  He  has 
scruples  about  the  rights  that  this  decision  gives 
him.  It's  a  knotty  question.  The  other  man 
thinks  that  he  is  being  cheated,  and  my  client 
isn't  quite  sure  himself.  I  didn't  know  what  to 
advise  in  such  a  case.  I  could  tell  him  what  the 
law  of  the  land  and  the  court  —  of  this  court  — 
was,  and  I  have  told  him.  But  I  couldn't  tell 
him  anything  about  the  law  of  that  other  land 
or  that  Higher  Court.  I  don't  know  any  more 
about  those  than  you  know  about  my  laws  and 
my  court.  And  so  we  have  decided  to  ask  you, 
to  leave  the  whole  dispute  to  you,  and  the  other 
man  has  agreed  to  let  you  decide  it.  He  is  a 
Protestant,  as  I  am,  but  that  has  nothing  to  do 
with  this  business.  We  are  all  perfectly  willing 
to  leave  it  to  you ;  we  will  all  abide  by  your 
decision  without  another  word." 

Father  Orin  hesitated.    « I  don't  know  that  I 


116  ROUND  ANVIL   ROCK 

can  see  any  more  clearly  than  the  rest  of  you. 
Well,  call  the  other  man,"  he  then  said.  «  We 
can  try  to  find  out  what  is  right,  anyway.  We 
can't  go  far  wrong  if  we  do  our  best  to  treat 
the  other  man  as  we  should  like  him  to  treat  us. 
Come  over  here  where  we  will  be  more  to  our- 
selves, and  fetch  the  other  man." 

The  judge  was  too  busy  to  notice  the  consulta- 
tion, but  after  a  while  he  saw  the  four  men  leav- 
ing the  court  room  together,  with  quiet,  smiling 
faces.  They  all  stopped  for  a  moment  in  the 
doorway  to  allow  Father  Orin  to  shake  hands 
with  Peter  Cartwright.  The  young  preacher  had 
been  delayed  oh  his  way,  and  was  just  now  enter- 
ing the  court-house.  He  did  not  smile  when  the 
priest  said  something  which  made  the  others 
laugh.  His  square  jaw  was  grimly  set,  and  his 
fiery  black  eyes  looked  over  the  heads  of  the 
crowd  at  the  tall  figure  of  General  Jackson  which 
towered  above  every  one  else  in  the  court  room, 
with  the  exception  of  the  attorney-general. 
These  two  great  lawyers  still  stood  absorbed  in 
low-toned  conversation.  But  the  young  preacher 
had  no  eyes  for  Joe  Daviess  nor  for  any  one  ex- 
cept Andrew  Jackson.  As  soon  as  he  could  free 
his  hand  from  Father  Grin's  clasp  he  entered  the 
court  room  and  went  straight  up  to  General  Jack- 
son and  stood  still  in  front  of  him,  looking  at 
him.  Both  the  gentlemen  turned  in  surprise 
at  the  young  backwoodsman's  abrupt  approach. 
Both  were  much  older  and  taller  than  he,  and  very 


v'V     ' 

. 
"  '  I  wanted  to  shake  the  hand  of  a  man  like  you.'  " 


THE   LOG  TEMPLE  OF  JUSTICE  117 

different  altogether  from  this  square-built,  rough- 
mannered  youth.  But  they  may  have  felt  the 
power  that  was  his  as  well  as  theirs,  for  neither 
gave  a  sign  of  the  impatience  that  both  were 
quick  to  feel  and  almost  as  quick  to  show.  Peter 
Cartwright  was  gazing  steadily  up  into  General 
Jackson's  eagle  eyes  —  which  few  could  face, 
which  turned  many  a  stout  heart  from  a  firm 
purpose  —  without  swerving  for  an  instant  from 
what  he  mean  to  do. 

"  This  is  General  Jackson,  I  believe,"  he  said. 

Andrew  Jackson  bent  his  haughty  head.  His 
gaze  was  now  enough  to  make  the  bravest  flinch. 
But  the  young  preacher  went  on  without  the 
slightest  flinching. 

"  I  have  been  told,  sir,  that  you  wanted  to  see 
me.  I  am  Peter  Cartwright.  I  understand  that 
you  intend  to  chastise  me  for  what  I  said  at  the 
camp-meeting.  Well,  here  I  am." 

Andrew  Jackson  stared  at  him  silently  for  a 
moment,  as  if  he  did  not  get  the  drift  of  the 
words.  And  then  he  suddenly  burst  into  a  great 
roar. 

«  The  man  who  told  you  that  was  an  infernal 
fool !  I  did  say  that  I  wanted  to  see  you  —  to 
meet  you.  But  I  said  so  because  I  desired  the 
honor  of  knowing  you,  sir.  I  wanted  to  shake  the 
hand  of  a  man  like  you.  Will  you  give  it  to  me 
now,  sir?  I  shall  take  it  as  an  honor.  I  am 
proud  to  know  a  man  who  is  ready  to  do  his 
duty  in  spite  of  anybody  on  God's  earth  —  as  a 


118  ROUND  ANVIL  ROCK 

preacher  should  be.  A  minister  of  Jesus  Christ 
should  love  everybody,  and  fear  no  mortal  man. 
Give  me  your  hand  again,  sir.  By  the  eternal, 
if  I  had  a  few  officers  like  you,  and  a  well-drilled 
army,  I  could  take  old  England ! " 

With  the  meeting  of  the  two  men's  hands  a 
shout  rang  out  from  the  crowd  now  pressing  in 
at  the  door.  Shout  followed  shout,  till  the  out- 
cry sounded  far  through  the  forest.  It  reached 
the  ears  of  Philip  Alston  and  William  Pressley, 
who  were  riding  slowly  toward  the  court-house. 
They  spurred  their  horses  forward,  wondering 
what  could  be  the  cause  of  the  unusual  noise  and 
excitement.  When  they  had  reached  the  court- 
house and  learned  what  the  shouting  meant, 
Philip  Alston  smiled  in  approval. 

"  Very  fine,  very  patriotic,"  he  said. 

But  his  real  attention  was  not  for  the  crowd ; 
he  cared  nothing  for  its  cries.  He  was  looking 
at  Joe  Daviess  and  Andrew  Jackson,  the  two 
famous  attorneys,  who  were  again  absorbed  in 
grave,  low-toned  consultation. 

"  Do  you  happen  to  know,  William,  what  these 
distinguished  gentlemen  are  discussing  with  such 
interest  and  gravity  ?  It  must  be  something  of 
importance.  But  of  course  you  know,  my  dear 
boy.  You  needn't  tell  me  if  it  is  any  matter  of 
state  or  any  sort  of  a  secret.  I  asked  without 
thinking.  Pardon  me,"  said  Philip  Alston. 

He  spoke  in  a  low  tone  of  gentle  indifference. 
There  was  nothing  to  indicate  that  he  felt  any 


THE   LOG  TEMPLE   OF  JUSTICE  119 

special  interest,  but  William  Pressley  answered 
the  question  at  once,  and  without  reserve.  Noth- 
ing pleased  that  young  man  more  than  a  chance 
to  display  his  own  first  knowledge  of  political 
affairs,  either  local,  state,  or  national.  A  single 
word  of  politics  never  failed  to  fire  his  ambition, 
to  light  that  one  spark  in  his  cold  eyes.  And 
Philip  Alston  knew  how  to  strike  the  flint  that 
lit  this  spark,  as  he  knew  how  to  do  almost 
anything  that  he  wished  to  do.  So  that  William 
now  told  him  what  it  was  that  these  two  power- 
ful guardians  of  the  public  peace  and  safety  had 
met  to  discuss.  He  also  told  him  everything 
that  the  judge  had  said  of  his  own  determination 
to  do  his  utmost  to  aid  Joe  Daviess  in  carrying 
out  the  plans  which  were  to  be  laid  that  day. 
Philip  Alston  listened  in  silence,  with  his  eyes 
on  General  Jackson  and  Kentucky's  attorney- 
general  ;  looking  first  at  the  one  and  then  at 
the  other,  admiring  and  appreciating  both. 
He  had  a  sincere,  although  purely  intellectual 
admiration  for  any  real  greatness.  Thus  gazing 
at  the  two  men  he  saw  how  great  was  the  re- 
sponsibility resting  on  them,  and  how  ably  and 
fearlessly  they  were  meeting  it.  He  realized 
clearly  that  these  two  grave,  honest,  earnest, 
fearless  thinkers  must  find  help  for  the  whole 
country  solely  in  the  might  of  their  own  minds 
and  in  the  strength  of  their  own  hands.  He 
knew  that  no  aid  ever  had  been  given,  or  ever 
would  be  given,  by  the  government  as  none  could 


120  ROUND   ANVIL  ROOK 

know  better  than  themselves.  All  this  and  much 
more  came  to  Philip  Alston,  as  he  stood  looking  at 
Andrew  Jackson  and  Joe  Daviess  while  listening 
to  William  Pressley.  Through  his  whole  life  this 
had  been  his  attitude.  He  had  always  looked 
one  way  and  rowed  another,  like  the  boatman  in 
The  Pilgrim's  Progress. 

"And  doubtless  you  too  are  giving  valuable 
assistance,"  he  said,  turning  his  inscrutable  gaze 
on  William  Pressley,  and  speaking  in  the  tone  of 
deference  which  often  covered  his  contempt. 
"  You  will,  however,  be  in  a  position  to  make  your 
services  far  more  valuable  and  much  more  widely 
recognized,  should  the  attorney-general  resign. 
There  can  be  no  doubt  of  your  succeeding  him. 
No  one  else  stands  so  close  to  the  place.  You  shall 
have  it  without  fail  if  any  influence  can  aid  you. 
And  then,  when  things  are  as  we  wish  them 
to  be  in  this  vicinity,  we  will  send  you  to  Con- 
gress to  look  after  our  larger  interests.  But  in 
order  to  do  this,  we  must  both  keep  a  keen  look- 
out beforehand  —  there  must  be  no  mistakes.  It 
might  be  well  for  you  to  meet  me  to-morrow  at 
Anvil  Rock.  I  shall  pass  there  at  twelve  o'clock 
on  my  way  to  Duff's  Fort.  You  can  then  tell 
me  the  plans  which  these  able  gentlemen  are  now 
making.  You  will  learn  them  from  your  uncle. 
Take  care  to  remember  the  smallest  detail. 
Bear  in  mind,  my  dear  boy,  that  you  will  soon 
have  this  whole  responsibility  on  your  own 
shoulders.  You  are  now  in  excellent  training 


THE  LOG  TEMPLE  OF  JUSTICE  121 

for  it.  Everything  that  passes  between  these 
brilliant  lawyers  must  be  of  personal  value  to 
you  in  the  discharge  of  your  future  duties,  and 
to  me,  also,  in  order  that  I  may  serve  you." 

William's  chest  swelled  out  with  pride,  and  he 
held  his  head  higher  in  conscious  rectitude.  He 
had  not  a  doubt  of  his  ability  to  fill  the  place, 
nor  thought  of  doubting  that  he  was  doing  what 
was  right  and  wise  in  being  perfectly  candid 
with  Philip  Alston.  He  thought  it  most  likely 
that  he  could  secure  the  appointment  without 
that  gentleman's  influence.  He  was  quite  sure 
that  he  would  not  require  any  one's  assistance 
in  filling  it.  Still,  he  was  willing  to  pay  all 
proper  deference  to  an  old  friend,  and  to  the 
foster-father  of  the  girl  who  was  to  be  his  wife. 
These  thoughts  were  an  open  book  which  Philip 
Alston  read  with  another  queer  smile,  while 
thanking  him  for  the  promise  to  come  to  Anvil 
Rock. 

"I  will  leave  you  now,"  Philip  Alston  said. 
"I  have  business  to-day,  also,  at  Duffs  Fort 
And  you,  left  alone,  will  be  free  to  join  your 
uncle  and  the  distinguished  gentlemen  who  are 
working  with  him." 

The  two  great  lawyers  had  not  seen  Philip 
Alston  up  to  the  moment  that  he  turned  to  leave 
the  court-house,  when  General  Jackson's  eagle 
eye  fell  upon  him. 

« Why,  there's  Philip  Alston  now ! "  he  ex- 
claimed in  an  undertone  and  with  a  frown. 


122  ROUND   ANVIL   ROCK 

"The  splendid  audacity  of  the  magnificent 
rascal !  Think  of  his  coming  here  —  right  under 
our  noses  —  to-day,  too,  of  all  days !  And  he 
knows  perfectly  well  that  we  know  him  to  be 
the  leader,  the  originator,  the  head  and  the  brains 
of  all  this  villany  ! " 

«  Yes.  But  how  are  we  going  to  prove  it  ?  " 
asked  the  attorney-general.  "  Believing  a  thing 
and  proving  it  are  two  different  things.  If  I 
could  only  once  get  my  hand  on  a  particle  of  evi- 
dence—  Do  you  suppose  he  could  have  known 
what  we  were  talking  about  ? "  with  sudden 
uneasiness.  "  He  is  intelligent  enough  to  guess, 
without  hearing  a  word.  It  is  scarcely  pos- 
sible that  Judge  Knox  could  have  been  so 
thoughtless  as  to  speak  of  our  plans  to  his 
nephew  —  that  solemn,  pompous  young  fool  who 
was  with  Alston.  Surely,  even  Robert  Knox 
couldn't  have  been  so  indiscreet  in  a  matter  of 
life  and  death,  such  as  this !  " 

"  Not  when  he  was  sober ;  and  he  hasn't  been 
drinking  to-day.  As  for  yesterday  —  that  is 
another  matter,"  said  General  Jackson.  "  Rob- 
ert Knox  always  means  to  do  exactly  what  is 
right,  but  what  a  man  means  is  sometimes  very 
different  from  what  he  does,  especially  when  he 
doesn't  know  what  he  is  doing." 


IX 

PAUL'S     FIRST     VISIT    TO     RUTH 

NONE  of  this  strife  had  yet  touched  Cedar 
House.  Even  the  hazy  sadness  which  had 
dimmed  Ruth's  bright  spirits  as  she  had  watched 
the  young  preacher  ride  away,  had  passed  as 
quickly  as  mist  before  the  sun.  For  it  is  one  of 
the  mercies  that  happy  youth  never  sees  life's 
struggle  quite  clearly,  and  that  it  is  soon  allowed 
to  forget  the  fleeting  glimpses  which  may  cloud 
its  happiness  for  an  instant. 

Her  thoughts  were  now  solely  of  the  young  doc- 
tor's coming.  He  had  not  named  the  hour  ;  the 
epidemic  made  him  uncertain  of  his  own  time. 
But  he  had  said  that  he  would  come  during  the 
day,  so  that  it  was  necessary  to  be  ready  to  re- 
ceive him  at  any  moment.  And  there  were 
many  pleasant  things  to  do  in  preparation  for  his 
coming.  More  roses  were  to  be  gathered,  and 
other  flowers  also,  were  blooming  gayly  among  the 
sober  vegetables  as  if  it  were  mid-summer.  So 
that  the  first  thing  Ruth  did  was  to  strip  the  gar- 
den, with  David  to  help  her  and  no  one  to  hinder. 

The  judge  and  William  had  gone  away  from 
the  house  as  soon  as  breakfast  was  over,  saying 

123 


124  BOUND  ANVIL  ROCK 

they  would  try  to  return  in  time  to  see  the 
visitor.  Miss  Penelope  was  busy  in  seeing 
that  the  coffee-pot  was  washed  with  hot  water 
and  rinsed  with  cold,  and  scoured  inside  and  out 
till  it  shone  like  burnished  silver.  The  widow 
Broadnax,  too,  was  as  busy  as  she  ever  was,  sit- 
ting in  her  usual  place  in  the  chimney-corner, 
looking  like  some  large,  clumsily  graven  image  in 
dark  stone,  and  watching  her  half-sister's  every 
movement  without  winking  or  turning  her  head. 
So  that  Ruth  and  David  were  left  to  follow  their 
own  fanciful  devices,  free  to  put  flowers  every- 
where. They  wrought  out  their  fancies  to  the 
fullest  and  the  more  fantastic,  as  the  artistic  in- 
stinct rarely  fails  to  do  in  its  first  freedom.  When 
they  were  done,  the  great  room  of  Cedar  House 
was  an  oddly  charming  sight,  worth  going  far  to 
see.  Never  before  had  it  been  so  wonderful, 
strange,  and  beautiful.  It  had  now  become  an 
enchanted  bower  of  mingled  bloom  and  fragrance, 
shadowed  within  yet  open  to  the  sun-lit  day 
and  the  flashing  river. 

"  There  ! "  cried  Ruth,  looking  round,  with  her 
head  on  one  side.  "  There  isn't  one  forgotten  spot 
for  another  flower.  Now,  I  must  run  and  dress. 
And  you  must  wait  here  till  I  come  back,  David, 
dear,  for  the  doctor  may  arrive  at  any  moment, 
and  somebody  should  be  ready  to  welcome  him. 
Why !  aunt  Molly  has  actually  followed  aunt 
Penelope  clear  to  the  kitchen,  so  that  there  is  no 
one  left  but  you.  Don't  go  till  I  come  back." 


PAUL'S  FIRST  VISIT  TO  EUTH  125 

She  went  up  the  broad,  dark  stairs,  turning  on 
almost  every  step  to  look  down  over  the  room  and 
drink  in  the  beauty  and  sweetness.  David,  also, 
drank  it  in  still  more  eagerly,  taking  deep  intoxi- 
cating draughts,  as  the  thirsty  take  cool,  sparkling 
wine.  He  then  sat  quietly  looking  about  and 
waiting.  His  book  was  in  his  pocket,  as  it  nearly 
always  was  when  not  in  his  hand.  But  he  had 
grown  shy  of  reading  "  The  Famous  History  of 
Montilion  —  Knight  of  the  Oracle,  Son  to  the 
true  Mirror  of  Princes,  the  most  Renowned 
Pericles,  showing  his  Strange  Birth,  Unfortunate 
Love,  Perilous  Adventures  in  Arms:  and  how 
he  came  to  the  Knowledge  of  his  Parents,  inter- 
laced with  a  Variety  of  Pleasant  and  Delightful 
Discourse,"  since  Ruth  had  laughed  at  it,  and  had 
laid  the  blame  for  his  weakness  upon  the  romance. 
And  then  his  craving  for  the  romantic  and  beauti- 
ful was  satisfied  for  the  moment  by  gazing  about 
this  big,  strange,  shadowy,  embowered  room. 
Moreover,  Ruth  came  back  very  soon.  When 
beauty  is  young,  fresh,  natural,  and  very,  very 
great,  it  does  not  need  much  time  for  its  adorn- 
ment. Ruth's  toilet  was  like  a  bird's.  A  quick 
dip  in  pure,  cold  water  —  a  flutter  of  soft  gar- 
ments as  the  radiant  wings  cast  off  the  crystal 
drops  —  and  she  was  ready  to  meet  the  full  glory 
of  the  sunlight.  When  she  thus  came  smiling 
down  the  stairs  that  day,  with  the  dew  of  life's 
morning  fresh  upon  her,  David  turned  from  the 
flowers. 


126  ROUND   ANVIL   ROCK 

"  Yes,  indeed  !  Isn't  it  a  lovely  frock  !  "  she 
cried,  running  her  hand  lightly  over  the  big, 
puffy,  short  sleeve.  "  It  is  one  of  the  last 
uncle  Philip  had  made  in  New  Orleans,  and 
fetched  up  the  river.  You  might  draw  this 
muslin  through  my  smallest  ring.  See  this  dear 
little  girdle  —  way  up  here  right  under  my  arms 
—  and  so  delicately  worked  in  these  pale  blue 
forget-me-nots,  that  look  as  if  they  were  just  in 
bloom.  See  !  "  —  lifting  the  gauzy  skirt  as  a 
child  lifts  its  apron  —  "  Here  is  a  border  of  the 
forget-me-nots  all  around  the  bottom.  But  you 
are  such  a  goose  that  you  don't  know  how  pretty 
it  is  unless  I  tell  you,"  pretending  to  shake  him, 
with  trills  of  happy  laughter.  "  All  the  same,  you 
shall  look  at  the  slippers,  too !  You  shall  see 
that  the  kid  is  as  blue  as  the  forget-me-nots,  — 
whether  you  want  to  or  not !  "  drawing  back  the 
skirt  and  putting  out  her  foot. 

And  the  boy  gazing  at  her  face,  forgot  his 
bashfulness  far  enough  to  admire  the  frock  and 
the  slippers  as  much  as  she  thought  they  de- 
served. Neither  of  these  children  of  the  wilder- 
ness knew  how  unsuitable  her  dress  was,  that  it 
had  never  been  intended  for  wearing  in  the  morn- 
ing anywhere,  or  for  the  forest  at  any  time. 
Ruth  had  worn  only  the  daintiest  and  finest  of 
garments  all  her  life,  without  any  regard  for  suit- 
ableness. From  her  babyhood  to  this  day  of  her 
girlhood,  it  had  been  Philip  Alston's  pride  and 
happiness  to  dress  her  as  the  proudest  and  rich- 


PAUL'S  FIRST  VISIT   TO  RUTH  127 

est  father  might  dress  his  daughter,  in  the  midst 
of  the  highest  civilization.  Ruth  knew  nothing 
else,  and  those  who  knew  her  would  scarcely  have 
known  her,  seeing  her  otherwise.  It  was  only 
the  few  strangers  stopping  at  Cedar  House,  on 
their  way  over  the  Wilderness  Road,  who  gazed 
at  Ruth  in  wondering  amazement.  Naturally 
enough,  those  who  had  never  seen  her  before 
could  not  at  first  believe  the  evidence  of  their 
own  dazzled  eyes.  To  them  this  radiant  young 
creature  in  her  rich,  delicate  raiment  could  not 
seem  real  at  first ;  she  was  too  lovely,  too  like  an 
enchanting  vision  born  of  the  dim  green  shadows 
of  the  forest,  a  bewitching  dryad,  an  exquisite 
sprite. 

Some  such  thoughts  as  these  crossed  the  mind 
of  Paul  Colbert  as  he  looked  at  her  through  the 
open  door.  He  had  ridden  up  unheard,  had  dis- 
mounted, tying  his  horse  to  a  tree,  and  had  then 
stood  for  several  minutes  without  being  seen  by 
Ruth  or  David.  When  he  spoke,  they  thought 
that  he  had  just  arrived.  Ruth  went  forward 
to  welcome  him  with  the  ease  and  grace  that 
marked  everything  she  did.  Nature  had  given 
her  a  pretty,  gentle  dignity,  and  Philip  Alston's 
cultured  example  had  polished  her  manner.  She 
now  did  all  the  graceful  offices  of  the  hostess, 
quietly  and  simply.  She  said  how  sorry  she 
was  that  neither  her  uncle  nor  her  cousin  was  at 
home.  They  wished,  she  said,  to  be  there  when 
he  came,  so  that  they  might  try  to  thank  him 


128  ROUND  ANVIL   ROCK 

for  his  kindness  to  her.  But  one  or  the  other 
would  return  very  soon ;  both  had  hoped  to  do 
so  before  his  arrival. 

« It  is  early  for  a  visit,"  Paul  Colbert  said, 
in  a  tone  of  apology;  "but  I  couldn't  come  at 
all  to-day,  unless  I  stopped  now  in  passing." 

"  Oh,  no ! "  said  Ruth,  quickly.  « It  isn't  very 
early." 

"And  then  I  thought  you  might  like  to  see 
this,"  he  said. 

Rising,  he  stepped  to  her  side,  and  gave  her  a 
sheet  of  paper  torn  from  his  note-book  and 
covered  with  writing.  He  did  not  return  to 
the  chair  which  he  had  arisen  from,  but  took 
another  much  nearer  her  own. 

"  Poetry  ! "  she  said.  "  Is  it  something  that 
you  have  written  ?  " 

He  smiled.  "  I  have  merely  copied  it.  I  saw 
the  poem  for  the  first  time  an  hour  or  so  ago  at 
Mr.  Audubon's.  It  is  new  and  has  never  been 
printed.  It  was  written  by  the  young  English 
poet,  John  Keats,  to  his  brother  George  Keats, 
who  is  a  partner  of  Mr.  Audubon  in  the  mill  on 
the  river.  Mr.  Keats  and  his  wife  are  here  now, 
the  guests  of  Mr.  Audubon.  The  poem  came 
in  a  letter  which  has  just  been  received.  I 
have  copied  a  part  of  it,  and  a  few  words  from 
the  letter,  also.  Mr.  George  Keats  was  kind 
enough  to  allow  me,  and  I  thought  you  would 
like  to  see  them.  I  hadn't  time  to  copy  the 
entire  poem,  though  it  isn't  very  long." 


PAUL'S  FIRST  VISIT  TO   RUTH  129 

« It  was  very  kind,"  said  Ruth.  « I  am  so  glad 
to  see  it.  May  I  read  it  now?  This  is  what 
the  letter  says,"  reading  it  aloud,  so  that  David 
also  might  hear.  "If  I  had  a  prayer  to  make 
for  any  great  good  ...  it  should  be  that  one 
of  your  children  should  be  the  first  American 
poet  ?  " 

«  The  first  English  hand  across  the  sea  ! "  said 
Paul  Colbert. 

Ruth  read  on  from  this  letter  of  John  Keats  to 
his  brother :  "  I  have  a  mind  to  make  a  prophecy. 
They  say  that  prophecies  work  out  their  own 
fulfilment."  And  then  she  read  as  much  of 
"  A  Prophecy  "  as  the  doctor  had  copied. 

«*        *        *        *        *        *        *        * 

Though  the  rushes  that  will  make 

Its  cradle  are  by  the  lake  — 

Though  the  linen  that  will  be 

Its  swathe  is  on  the  cotton  tree  — 

Though  the  woollen  that  will  keep 

It  warm  is  on  the  silly  sheep  — 

Listen,  starlight,  listen,  listen, 

Glisten,  glisten,  glisten,  glisten, 

And  hear  my  lullaby  ! 

Child,  I  see  thee  !     Child,  I've  found  thee ! 

Midst  the  quiet  all  around  thee ! 

Child,  I  see  thee  !    Child,  I  spy  thee! 

And  thy  mother  sweet  is  nigh  thee. 

Child,  I  know  thee !    Child  no  more, 

But  a  poet  ever-more  1 

See,  see,  the  lyre,  the  lyre ! 

In  a  flame  of  fire 

Upon  the  little  cradle's  top 

Flaring,  flaring,  flaring, 


130  ROUND   ANVIL   ROCK 

Past  the  eyesight's  bearing. 

Wake  it  from  its  sleep, 

And  see  if  it  can  keep 

Its  eyes  upon  the  blaze  — 

Ainaze,  amaze! 

It  stares,  it  stares,  it  stares, 

It  dares  what  none  dares  ! 

It  lifts  its  little  hand  into  the  flame 

Unharmed  and  on  the  strings 

Paddles  a  little  tune  and  sings, 

With  dumb  endeavor  sweetly  — 

Bard  thou  art  completely ; 

Little  child, 
0'  the  western  wild.  .  .  ." 

Ruth  looked  at  Paul  with  shining  eyes.  « I 
thank  you  again  for  thinking  that  I  would  like 
this,"  she  said. 

"  A  little  chap  whom  I  saw  last  night  made 
me  feel  like  making  a  prophecy  that  he  would 
be  the  first  Kentucky  astronomer,"  said  Paul, 
with  a  smile.  "  He  was  hardly  more  than  a 
baby,  not  much  over  two  years  old  —  a  tod- 
dling curly-head.  Yet  there  he  stood  by  the 
roadside,  looking  up  at  the  heavens,  as  solemn 
as  you  please.  And  he  said  that  '  man  couldn't 
make  moons.'  I  didn't  hear  him  say  this,  but 
his  brother  repeated  what  he  said." 

"Yes,  I  know.  You  mean  little  Ormsby 
MacKnight  Mitchel.  His  people  live  near  here, 
over  on  Highland  Creek.  His  father  came 
there  from  Virginia.  He  intended  to  bore 
for  salt  water,  meaning  to  make  salt.  But  he 
found  more  interest  in  the  wild  multiflora  roses 


PAUL'S  FIRST  VISIT   TO  RUTH  131 

that  bloom  all  around  the  Lick,  and  the  bones 
of  unknown  animals  buried  fifty  feet  beneath 
the  surface  of  the  earth  —  though  the  bones  were 
not  found  just  there  —  but  farther  off  at  another 
Lick." 

"Then  Master  Ormsby  MacKnight  Mitchel  is 
the  true  son  of  his  father,"  smiled  Paul  Colbert. 
"  Neither  seems  commonplace  enough  to  be  content 
with  what  everyday  people  find  between  heaven 
and  earth." 

He  said  this  idly,  as  we  all  speak  to  one  another 
when  casting  about  for  mutual  interests  before 
really  knowing  each  other.  Thus  the  talk  drifted 
for  a  few  moments,  with  a  shy  word  now  and 
then  from  David.  And  presently  a  chance  refer- 
ence to  the  epidemic  brought  a  new  light  into  the 
doctor's  eyes,  and  a  new  earnestness  into  his  voice. 

"  The  fathers  and  mothers  of  the  country  are 
much  alarmed  for  their  children,"  he  said.  "  But 
there  is  far  more  need  to  be  alarmed  for  them- 
selves. The  Cold  Plague  attacks  the  strong 
rather  than  the  weak.  But  all  the  people,  young 
and  old,  everywhere  through  the  wilderness,  are 
almost  frantic  with  terror.  They  fear  infection 
from  every  newcomer.  There  was  a  panic 
throughout  this  vicinity  a  few  days  ago,  over 
the  landing  of  a  flatboat,  and  the  coming 
ashore  of  the  unfortunates  who  were  on  it. 
They  were  in  a  most  pitiful  plight.  I  hope 
never  to  see  a  sadder  sight  than  that  poverty- 
stricken  little  family.  But  they  were  not  suflVr- 


132  ROUND  ANVIL  ROCK 

ing  from  any  disease  more  contagious  than  want ; 
they  were  only  cold,  wet,  tired,  hungry,  and  dis- 
heartened. The  poor  mother  was  sitting  on  the 
damp  sand  near  the  water's  edge,  with  her 
little  ones  around  her,  when  I  found  them. 
They  were  merely  stopping  to  rest  on  their  way 
from  another  portion  of  the  state,  to  the  wild 
country  on  the  other  side  of  the  river." 

"  We  saw  them,  too,  poor  things,"  said  Ruth, 
quickly,  with  pity  in  her  soft  eyes.  "  Father 
Orin  and  Toby  came  by  to  tell  us,  and  David  and 
I  went  at  once  to  do  what  we  could.  I  can't 
forget  how  the  mother  looked.  She  was  young, 
but  had  such  a  sad,  haggard  face,  with  such  a 
prominent  forehead,  and  such  steady  gray  eyes. 
She  held  a  strange  looking  little  child  on  her  lap. 
She  said  that  her  name  was  Nancy  Lincoln,  and 
she  called  the  baby  '  Abe.'  He  couldn't  have 
been  more  than  two  years  of  age,  but  he  looked 
up  at  Father  Orin,  and  from  his  face  to  ours,  like 
some  troubled  little  old  man." 

"  Yes,  Father  Orin  and  Toby  were  first  to  the 
rescue,  as  they  always  are.  I  can't  imagine 
when  those  two  sleep,  and  I  am  sure  they 
never  rest  when  awake." 

And  then,  seeing  her  interest  and  sympathy,  he 
went  on  tc  tell  of  three  little  ones,  orphaned  by 
the  plague-,  and  left  alone  and  utterly  helpless, 
in  a  cabin  on  the  Wilderness  Road.  As  he  spoke, 
he  remembered  with  a  pang  of  self-reproach,  that 
Father  Orin  was  with  them  now  and  waiting  for 


PAUL'S  FIRST  VISIT  TO  RUTH  133 

him.  He  rose  suddenly,  saying  that  he  must  go, 
but  a  slight  noise  at  the  door  caused  him  to  pause 
and  turn.  It  was  William  Pressley  coming  in, 
and  Ruth  went  forward  to  meet  him,  and  intro- 
duced him  to  the  doctor,  who  sat  down  again 
for  a  few  moments.  The  two  young  men  then 
talked  with  one  another  as  strangers  do,  of  the 
current  topics  of  the  day  and  the  country,  speak- 
ing mostly  of  the  Shawnee  danger  —  the  one 
subject  then  most  earnestly  and  universally  dis- 
cussed throughout  the  wilderness.  The  nearest 
approach  to  a  personal  tone  was  in  William 
Pressley's  formal  expression  of  thanks.  Paul 
Colbert  put  these  aside  as  formally  as  they  were 
offered,  and  in  a  moment  more  he  got  up  to  take 
leave.  Yet  in  that  brief  space  the  two  men  had 
begun  to  dislike  each  other. 

This  was  natural  enough  on  the  part  of  William 
Pressley.  It  is  indeed  the  first  instinct  of  his  kind 
toward  any  equal  or  superior.  When  a  man's  or 
a  woman's  vanity  is  so  great  that  it  instinctively 
and  instantly  levies  on  all  within  reach — demand- 
ing incense  —  nothing  can  be  so  dislikeful  as  a 
bearing  which  refuses  to  swing  the  censer.  From 
its  very  nature  it  must  instantly  resent  any  such 
conscious  or  unconscious  claim  to  equality,  to  say 
nothing  of  superiority.  Those  so  afflicted  must 
of  necessity  like  only  their  inferiors  and  must 
have  only  inferiors  for  friends,  if  they  have  any 
friends  at  all.  So  that  this  is  maybe  the  real 
reason  why  many  reasonably  good  and  perfectly 


134  ROUND   ANVIL  ROCK 

sincere  men  and  women  go  almost  friendless 
through  useful  and  blameless  lives.  And  this 
was  William  Pressley's  natural  feeling  toward 
Paul  Colbert.  The  honest,  sincere  young  lawyer 
could  have  forgiven  the  honest,  sincere  young 
doctor  almost  any  real  sin  or  weakness  and 
have  liked  him  well  enough ;  but  he  could  not 
forgive  the  polite  indifference  of  his  manner 
toward  himself,  or  his  looking  over  his  head 
at  Ruth,  or  turning  from  him  to  speak  to 
David.  Least  of  all  could  he  forgive  him  for 
being  at  that  moment  the  most  conspicuous 
figure  in  the  whole  region,  on  account  of  his 
single-handed  struggle  with  the  mysterious  dis- 
ease, which,  defying  the  other  doctors,  had 
been  devastating  the  new  settlements  of  the 
wilderness.  Nor  could  the  difference  in  their 
aims  affect  this  feeling  in  the  least.  To  a  nature 
like  William  Pressley's,  anything  won  by  another 
is  something  taken  from  himself.  Yet  the  dis- 
like for  Paul  Colbert,  which  thus  hardened 
within  him,  had  no  taint  of  jealousy  in  the 
ordinary  sense  of  that  term.  He  did  not  think 
of  Ruth  at  all  in  the  matter.  It  did  not  occur 
to  him  to  associate  her  with  this  stranger,  or  with 
any  one  but  himself.  It  was  in  keeping  with  his 
character  for  him  to  be  slower  than  a  less  vain 
man  to  suspect  her  —  or  any  one  whom  he 
knew  —  of  personal  preference  for  another  than 
himself ;  for  vanity  of  this  supreme  order  has  its 
comforts  as  well  as  its  torments. 


PAUL'S   FIRST  VISIT  TO  RUTH  135 

On  the  part  of  Paul  Colbert,  the  feeling 
was  wholly  different,  and  largely  impersonal. 
It  was  merely  the  dislike  that  every  busy  man 
feels  for  a  new  acquaintance  which  promises  no 
interest,  even  at  the  outset.  Had  he  been  less 
busy,  and  his  mind  more  free,  he  might  perhaps 
have  found  some  amusement  in  trying  to  find 
out  how  far  this  serious  young  man  was  mis- 
taken in  his  high  estimate  of  himself.  He 
thought  at  a  first  glance  that  he  was  a  good 
deal  in  error,  but  he  also  saw  that  he  was  sincere 
in  his  conviction ;  so  that  the  young  doctor 
was  tolerantly  amused  at  the  lofty  air  of  the 
young  lawyer,  without  the  slightest  feeling  of 
real  resentment.  He  made  one  or  two  straight- 
forward, friendly  efforts  to  thaw  the  ice  of 
William  Pressley's  manner.  His  own  was  natu- 
rally frank  and  cordial.  He  always  wished  to  be 
liked,  which  is  the  natural  wish  of  every  truly 
kind  nature.  And  then,  above  and  beyond  this, 
was  the  right-minded  lover's  instinctive  desire  to 
secure  the  good-will  of  all  who  are  near  the  one 
whom  he  loves;  for  Paul  Colbert  had  fallen  in 
love  with  Ruth,  and  he  knew  it,  as  few  do  who 
have  fallen  in  love  at  first  sight.  He  could, 
indeed,  have  told  the  very  instant  at  which  love 
had  come  —  like  a  bolt  from  the  blue. 

He  was  therefore  more  than  willing  to  be 
friendly  with  William  Pressley,  and  already  seek- 
ing a  pretext  to  come  again.  He  now  said,  turn- 
ing to  Ruth  with  a  smile : 


136  BOUND  ANVIL  ROCK 

"Since  you  are  fond  of  poetry,  perhaps  you 
will  allow  me  to  fetch  you  a  new  volume  of 
poems  by  a  young  Englishman,  Lord  Byron.  A 
friend  sent  it  to  me  from  London.  He  says  it  is 
being  severely  treated  by  the  critics.  They  say 
that  they  never  would  have  believed  that  any 
one  could  have  been  as  idle  and  as  worthless 
generally,  as  those  <  Hours  of  Idleness '  prove  the 
author  to  be.  But  I  think  you  will  like  the  poems, 
especially  one  called  *The  Tear.'  It  is  said 
that  the  poet  means  to  write  something  about 
Daniel  Boone." 

"  There  should  be  many  tears  in  that  poem," 
said  Ruth,  a  shadow  falling  over  the  brightness 
of  her  face.  "  To  think  of  the  poor  old  hero  as 
he  is  now  makes  the  heart  ache." 

"It  should  make  us  all  ashamed,"  said  Paul 
Colbert.  "  He  gave  us  the  whole  state,  and  we  are 
not  willing  to  give  him  back  enough  of  it  to  rest 
his  failing  feet  upon,  nor  a  log  cabin  to  shelter 
his  feeble  body,  worn  out  in  our  service.  It  is  the 
blackest  ingratitude.  It  is  a  disgrace  to  the 
commonwealth." 

"  Pardon  me,"  said  William  Pressley,  with  his 
cool  smile ;  « but  as  I  look  at  the  matter,  there 
is  no  one  but  himself  to  blame.  It  is  solely  the 
result  of  his  own  negligence  and  ignorance.  He 
did  not  observe  the  plain  requirement  of  the  law." 

"  But,  William, "  said  Ruth,  impulsively,  with  a 
brighter  color  in  her  cheek,  "  just  think !  How 
could  he  know  —  a  simple  old  hunter,  just  like 


PAUL'S  FIRST  VISIT   TO  RUTH  137 

a  little  child,  only  as  brave  as  a  lion ! "  There 
was  a  quiver  in  her  voice  and  a  flash  in  her 
soft  eyes. 

"  We  can  but  hope  that  the  state  will  remem- 
ber what  it  owes,"  said  the  doctor,  moving 
toward  the  door. 

He  felt  that  he  had  been  tempted  to  linger 
too  long.  Father  Orin  was  still  waiting  for  him 
in  the  desolate  cabin  where  the  Cold  Plague  had 
left  the  three  orphans.  His  conscience  smote  him 
for  lingering,  and  yet  he  could  not  leave,  even 
now,  without  speaking  again  of  the  poems,  and 
saying  that  he  would  fetch  the  book  and  leave 
it  the  next  time  he  rode  by  Cedar  House. 

When  he  was  gone,  Ruth  looked  at  William 
Pressley  in  silent,  troubled  perplexity.  She  was 
wondering  vaguely  why  she  had  felt  so  ashamed 
—  almost  as  if  she  had  done  some  shameful 
thing  herself  —  when  he  had  spoken  as  he  had 
done  before  the  doctor  about  Daniel  Boone.  It 
must  have  been  plain  to  the  visitor  that  she  did 
not  think  as  William  thought.  And  yet  she 
flinched  again,  recalling  the  doctor's  glance  at 
William,  and  wondered  why  it  should  have  hurt 
her,  as  if  it  had  fallen  upon  herself.  She  was 
not  old  enough  or  wise  enough  to  have  learned 
that  the  mere  promise  to  marry  a  man  makes  a 
sensitive  woman  begin  forthwith,  to  feel  respon- 
sible for  everything  that  he  says  and  does ;  and 
that  this  is  one  of  the  deep,  mysterious  sources  of 
the  misery  and  happiness  of  marriage. 


FATHER    ORIN    AND    TOBY    MEET    TOMMY    DYE 

UNDER  the  spur  of  his  conscience  the  young 
doctor  rode  fast.  He  was  not  the  man  to  let 
duty  wait  even  on  love,  without  trying  to  make 
amends.  But  a  sharper  pang  stung  him  when 
he  reached  the  desolate  cabin  in  which  the  Cold 
Plague  had  left  the  orphans. 

It  seemed  to  him  that  Toby,  standing  by  the 
broken  door,  gave  him  a  look  of  reproach.  Toby 
had  not  failed  or  been  slow  in  doing  his  part ; 
Father  Orin  and  he  had  already  done  all  that  they 
could,  though  this  was  piteously  little.  The  one 
had  cut  firewood  from  the  near-by  fallen  trees, 
and  the  other  had  drawn  it  to  the  cabin  door,  so 
that  there  was  a  good  fire  blazing  on  the  earthen 
hearth.  But  the  rotting,  falling  logs  of  the  cabin's 
walls  were  far  apart,  the  mud  which  had  once 
made  them  snug  having  dropped  out ;  and  the 
chilly,  rising  wind  blew  bitterly  through  the 
miserable  hut.  The  covers  on  the  bed  were  few 
and  thin,  although  Father  Orin  had  spread  Toby's 
blanket  over  them.  The  three  little  white  faces 
lying  in  a  pathetic  row  on  the  ragged  pillows, 
lay  so  still  that  the  doctor  was  not  sure  they 

138 


FATHER  ORIN  AND  TOBY  MEET  TOMMY  DYE    139 

were  alive,  till  the  oldest  child,  a  boy  of  three, 
languidly  opened  his  eyes,  looked  up  unseeingly, 
and  wearily  closed  them  again. 

There  was  a  tightening  in  the  doctor's  throat 
when  he  turned  away,  and  he  was  glad  to  smile  at 
Father  Orin's  housekeeping.  The  priest  certainly 
had  left  nothing  in  his  power  undone,  to  keep  life 
in  the  frail  little  bodies.  On  the  hearth  was  such 
food  as  he  had  been  able  to  prepare,  carefully 
covered  to  keep  it  warm.  As  the  young  man's 
gaze  thus  wandered  sadly  about  the  cabin,  his 
eyes  encountered  the  old  man's.  The  laughter 
with  which  he  was  fighting  emotion  died  on  his 
lips,  and  their  hands  met  in  a  close  clasp. 

"  The  poor  little  things ! "  the  young  man  said. 
"  Ah,  Father,  it  is  wild  work  —  this  making  of  a 
state.  The  soil  of  Kentucky  should  bear  a  rich 
harvest.  It  is  being  deeply  sown  in  pain  and 
sorrow,  and  well-watered  with  tears  and  blood." 

They  stood  silent  for  a  moment,  looking  help- 
lessly at  the  bed  and  the  little  white  faces. 

"  What  shall  we  do  ?  "  then  asked  Father  Orin. 
"  These  children  can't  stay  here  through  another 
night.  That  wind  blows  right  over  the  bed,  and 
there  is  no  way  to  keep  it  out.  They  could 
hardly  live  till  morning.  And  yet  they  may  die 
on  the  way  if  we  try  to  take  them  to  the  Sisters 
at  once." 

"  That  is  their  only  chance.  We  are  bound  to 
take  the  risk.  We  must  do  our  best  to  get  them 
to  the  Sisters  as  quickly  as  possible.  Women 


140  HOUND  ANVIL  EOCK 

know  better  than  doctors  how  to  take  care  of 
babies.  What  is  there  to  put  round  them  —  to 
wrap  them  in  ?  " 

There  were  no  wrappings,  nothing  that  could 
be  used  for  the  purpose,  except  the  bed  covers 
and  Toby's  blanket.  The  men  took  these  and 
with  awkward  tenderness  covered  the  helpless, 
limp  little  bodies  as  well  as  they  could.  Father 
Orin  then  went  out  of  the  cabin,  and  with  a 
nod  summoned  Toby  to  do  his  part.  When  the 
priest  was  seated  in  the  saddle,  the  doctor  turned 
back  to  the  bed,  and  lifting  one  of  the  three  limp 
little  burdens,  carried  it  out  and  carefully  placed 
it  in  Father  Grin's  arms. 

"  But  you  can't  carry  both  of  the  others,"  said 
the  priest,  in  sudden  perplexity.  "  And  we  can't 
leave  one  here  alone  while  we  take  the  others 
and  return.  Maybe  it  would  be  better  to  take 
one  at  a  time.  I  can  either  stay  or  go." 

"  Oh,  no,  indeed !  I  can  take  these  two  easy 
enough  —  one  on  each  arm.  They  weigh  noth- 
ing—  poor  little  atoms  —  and  I  don't  need  a  hand 
for  the  reins.  My  horse  often  goes  in  a  run  with 
them  thrown  over  the  pommel.  He  went  on  a 
bee-line  with  them  so  last  night." 

With  both  arms  thus  filled  with  the  helpless 
morsels  of  humanity,  he  had  no  trouble  in  seat- 
ing himself  in  the  saddle.  He  laughed  a  little, 
thinking  what  a  spectacle  they  must  make  ;  and 
Father  Orin  laughed  too,  with  the  shamefaced- 
ness  that  the  best  men  feel  when  they  do  such 


Father  Orin  and  Toby. 


FATHER  ORIN  AND  TOBY  MEET  TOMMY  DYE    141 

gentle  things.  And  then  the  strange,  pathetic 
journey  through  the  wilderness  began. 

"  Steady,  Toby.  That's  right,  old  man,"  said 
the  priest,  now  and  then. 

The  doctor  kept  a  close,  anxious  watch  over 
the  child  in  Father  Grin's  arms,  and  frequently 
glanced  down  at  the  two  little  faces  lying  in  the 
hollow  of  his  own  arms.  Any  one  of  the  three, 
— or  all  of  them  —  might  cease  to  breathe  at 
any  moment.  It  seemed  to  both  the  anxious 
men  that  they  were  a  long  time  in  going  to 
the  Sisters'  house,  although  the  distance  was 
but  a  few  miles.  When  the  log  refuge  first 
came  in  sight  through  the  trees,  they  breathed  a 
deep  sigh  of  relief  in  the  same  breath.  The  Sis- 
ters, who  had  been  warned,  saw  them  coming, 
and  ran  to  meet  them,  and  took  the  babies  from 
their  arms.  When  the  little  ones  had  been  borne 
in  the  house  and  put  to  bed,  the  doctor  sat  down 
beside  them  to  see  what  more  might  be  done. 
But  the  priest,  without  rest  or  delay,  set  out  on 
another  errand  of  mercy.  Toby,  needing  no 
word  or  hint,  at  once  quickened  his  pace,  know- 
ing full  well  the  difference  between  this  business 
and  that  which  was  just  finished,  so  far  as  they 
were  responsible. 

"  You're  right,  old  man.  Keep  us  up  to  the 
mark,  right  up  to  the  mark,"  chuckled  Father 
Orin.  "  I'm  mighty  tired,  and  I'm  afraid  I  might 
shirk  if  you  would  let  me." 

As  he  bent  down  with  a  bantering  chuckle  to 


142  ROUND  ANVIL  EOCK 

pat  the  horse's  inflexible  neck,  a  man's  voice 
suddenly  hailed  them  from  the  darkening  woods 
lying  at  their  back. 

"  Hello  !  Hello  1  Hold  on  !  "  the  unseen  man 
shouted. 

They  turned  quickly  and  stood  still,  looking 
in  the  direction  from  which  the  shouting  came. 
A  horseman  soon  appeared  under  the  trees  and 
came  galloping  after  them,  and  when  he  had 
drawn  nearer,  the  priest  saw,  with  some  annoy- 
ance, that  it  was  Tommy  Dye.  As  he  reined  up 
beside  them,  Toby  turned  his  head  slowly  and 
gave  the  horse  precisely  the  same  look  that  Father 
Orin  gave  the  rider.  Toby  wanted  to  have  noth- 
ing more  to  do  with  a  tricky  race-horse  than 
Father  Orin  wished  to  have  to  do  with  a  shady 
adventurer. 

Tommy  Dye  looked  at  them  both  with  a  grin. 
"I  saw  you  just  now  —  you  and  the  new  doctor 
—  a-toting  them  there  youngsters." 

Father  Orin  straightened  up,  feeling  and  show- 
ing the  embarrassment  and  indignation  that 
every  man,  lay  and  clerical  alike,  feels  and  shows 
at  being  seen  by  another  man  acting  as  a  nurse 
to  a  child. 

"  Well,  what  of  it  ?  "  he  retorted,  as  naturally 
as  if  he  had  never  worn  a  cassock. 

Tommy  Dye  grinned  again,  more  broadly  than 
before.  He  took  off  his  hat  and  rubbed  his  shock 
of  red  hair  the  wrong  way.  The  humor  of  the 
recollection  became  too  much  for  him,  and  he 


FATHER  ORIN  AND  TOBY  MEET  TOMMY  DYE    143 

roared  with  laughter.  Toby  of  his  own  indig- 
nant accord  now  moved  to  go  on,  and  Father 
Orin  gathered  up  the  reins  saying  rather  shortly 
that  he  had  urgent  business,  and  must  be  riding 
along. 

« I  say  —  wait  a  minute.  What  makes  you 
in  such  an  all-fired  hurry  ?  "  Tommy  Dye  called 
after  them. 

Toby  stopped  reluctantly,  and  he  and  Father 
Orin  waited  with  visible  unwillingness,  until 
Tommy  Dye  came  up  again  and  stammeringly 
began  what  he  had  to  say.  He  did  not  know 
how  to  address  a  priest.  He  had  never  before 
had  occasion  to  speak  to  a  churchman  of  any 
denomination.  So  that  he  now  plunged  in  with- 
out any  address  at  all : 

« I  say  —  who  pays  for  them  there  youngsters, 
yonder  ?  "  he  blurted. 

Father  Orin  merely  looked  at  him  in  silence 
for  a  moment,  and  then  gathered  up  the  reins 
once  more. 

Tommy  Dye  saw  that  there  was  something 
amiss,  that  he  had  made  some  mistake,  and  not 
knowing  what  it  was,  he  resorted  to  the  means 
which  he  usually  employed  to  set  all  matters  right. 
He  hastily  plunged  his  hand  in  the  outer  pocket 
of  his  coat,  and  then  dropped  the  bottle  back  in 
its  place  still  more  hastily,  after  another  glance 
at  the  priest. 

« Well,  I  thought  you  might  like  it,"  he  said 
with  a  touch  of  defiance,  feeling  it  necessary  to 


144  ROUND  ANVIL  ROCK 

assert  himself.  "  When  a  man's  face  is  as  red 
as  yours,  I  don't  see  why  a  fellow  mightn't  ask 
him  to  take  a  drink." 

Father  Orin  laughed  with  ready  good  humor. 

"  My  face  is  red,  my  friend.  I  can't  deny  that 
fact ;  but  the  redness  comes  from  a  thin  skin  and. 
rough  weather.  What  is  it  you  want  ?  I  haven't 
time  to  wait." 

"  Say,  I  kinder  thought,  seeing  you  and  the 
doctor  with  them  babies  just  now,"  —  grinning 
again  at  the  comical  recollection  —  "  that  maybe 
you  would  let  me  come  into  the  game.  I'd  like  to 
take  a  hand  in  the  deal,  if  there's  room  for  another 
player.  I'll  put  up  the  stakes  right  now."  His 
hand  went  into  his  breeches  pocket  this  time. 
"  Here's  the  roll  I  won  on  the  fall  races.  Put  it 
all  up  on  the  game.  What's  the  odds  ?  Come 
easy,  go  easy." 

He  held  out  the  money.  "  I  saw  you  at  the 
court-house,  too,"  he  added  sheepishly,  as  if  try- 
ing to  excuse  what  he  did. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,"  said  Father  Orin, 
gravely.  « I  didn't  understand.  I've  done  you 
great  injustice." 

«  Hey  ?     What  did  you  say  ?  " 

"The  Sisters  would  be  only  too  glad  to  use 
this  money  for  those  children,  and  for  other  little 
ones  just  as  helpless  and  needy,"  murmuring 
something  about  the  use  purifying  the  source. 
«  But  I  want  you  to  take  it  to  them  yourself,  and 
give  it  to  them  with  your  own  hands." 


FATHER  ORIN  AND  TOBY  MEET  TOMMY  DYE    145 

«  Me  !     Old  Tommy  Dye  ! " 

The  coarse  face  actually  turned  pale  under  its 
big  freckles.  Its  dismay  was  so  comical  that 
Father  Orin  laughed  till  the  woods  rang  with 
his  hearty,  merry  voice.  Toby  turned  his  head 
in  sober  disapproval  of  such  unseemly  levity, 
and  Tommy  Dye  was  a  good  deal  miffed. 

"  'Pears  to  me  you  are  mighty  lively  —  and 
most  of  the  time,  too,"  he  said,  in  a  tone  of 
offence,  tinged  with  wonder. 

"  Why  not  ?  "  said  the  priest,  still  chuckling. 
"Why  shouldn't  I  be  lively?" 

Tommy  Dye  hesitated,  more  puzzled  now  than 
angry.  "  Well,  you  see,  your  job  has  always 
seemed  to  me  just  about  the  lonesomest  there  is." 

Father  Orin  began  to  laugh  again,  but  he  was 
hushed  by  the  soft,  sweet  pealing  of  the  Ange- 
lus  through  the  shadowed  forest.  The  gambler 
also  listened,  with  a  softening  change  in  the  reck- 
lessness of  his  face. 

"  The  sound  of  that  bell  always  makes  me  feel 
queer,"  he  stammered.  "  It  sets  me  to  thinking 
about  home,  too,  —  and  home  folks.  I'm  blamed 
if  I  can  see  how  it  is.  I  never  had  any  home, 
and  if  I've  got  any  kin-folks,  I  don't  know  where 
they  live.  But  anyhow,  that's  the  way  the 
ringing  of  that  bell  always  makes  me  feel.  Say  1 
there's  lots  of  things  about  your  church  that 
come  over  a  fellow  like  that.  Now  there  the 
very  name  of  that  little  house  back  yonder 
amongst  them  trees  —  Our  Lady's  Chapel.  That's 


146  ROUND   ANVIL   ROOK 

just  it  —  just  to  the  notch  what  I  mean  —  there's 
something  kind  of  homelike  in  the  name  itself. 
And  that's  the  very  difference  between  your 
church  and  the  other  churches.  The  Protestant 
church  seems  real  lonesome,  like  a  sort  of  bach- 
elor's hall.  The  Catholic  church  makes  you  feel 
at  home,  because  there's  always  a  mother  in  the 
house." 

"  Take  care  ! "  exclaimed  the  priest.  "  But  I 
am  sure  you  don't  mean  to  be  irreverent, 
my  friend.  And  about  your  generosity  to  the 
orphans.  Here,  let  me  give  the  money  back.  I 
am  in  earnest  in  asking  you  to  give  it  to  the 
Sisters  with  your  own  hands.  When  they  see 
you  and  you  see  them,  you  will  both  understand 
each  other  better  than  if  I  were  to  try  ever  so 
long  and  hard  to  explain." 

He  looked  at  Tommy  Dye  for  a  moment  with 
a  returning  smile,  but  the  pity  of  it  all  put  the 
humor  aside. 

"  The  doctor  will  be  coming  along  in  a  mo- 
ment —  ah,  there  he  comes  now !  I  will  ask 
him  to  go  with  you  to  see  the  Sisters.  I  am 
sorry  that  I  cannot  turn  back  with  you  myself. 
I  should  be  glad  to." 

It  did  not  take  long  to  state  the  case  to  the 
doctor,  who  readily  agreed  to  do  what  the  priest 
asked.  Tommy  Dye  was  by  this  time  so  thor- 
oughly cowed  by  the  situation  in  which  he  thus 
found  himself  that  he  no  longer  resisted.  There 
was  one  uncertain  instant  when,  seeing  the  Sis- 


FATHER  ORIN  AND  TOBY  MEET  TOMMY  DYE    147 

ters  appear  in  the  door,  he  was  undecided  whether 
to  run  away  or  go  on.  But  he  was  afraid  to  flee, 
with  the  Sisters'  eyes  upon  him,  and  the  doc- 
tor led  him  into  the  house.  The  ladies  had  been 
frightened  by  the  doctor's  unexpected  and  speedy 
return ;  but  he  soon  quieted  their  fears,  and 
made  them  happy  by  telling  them  the  reason  of 
his  turning  back.  Sister  Teresa,  the  Lady  Supe- 
rior, keenly  touched,  quickly  turned  to  Tommy 
Dye  and  he  handed  her  the  money  in  awkward 
haste. 

"  How  good  of  you  !  How  generous  —  how 
noble !  Ah,  you  don't  know  how  much  good 
this  will  do,"  she  said,  with  her  eyes  full  of  tears. 
"  We  thank  you  with  all  our  hearts  for  ourselves 
and  for  the  children." 

"Thank  you,  —  ma'am,"  stammered  Tommy 
Dye,  scarlet,  and  almost  dumb. 

None  of  the  many  sins  of  which  he  had  been 
suspected  had  ever  made  him  feel  nearly  so  un- 
comfortable as  he  felt  now.  None  of  the  many 
sins  of  which  he  had  been  convicted  had  ever 
made  him  look  half  so  guilty  as  he  looked  now. 

"  You  mustn't  call  me  '  ma'am,' "  said  Sister 
Teresa.  "You  must  call  me  Sister,  and  Sister 
Elizabeth  and  Sister  Angela  are  your  sisters,  too. 
You  must  always  think  of  us  as  your  real  sisters, 
and  the  little  ones  belong  to  you  after  this,  as 
much  as  they  do  to  us.  You  must  always  re- 
member that.  Will  you  come  into  the  other 
room  and  see  them?  Or  I  will  fetch  — " 


148  ROUND  ANVIL  ROCK 

But  Tommy  Dye  could  not  endure  any  more. 
He  turned  with  hardly  a  word,  and  fled  in  des- 
perate haste.  The  Sisters  gazed  after  him  in 
surprise,  and  with  a  good  deal  of  alarm,  until 
Paul  Colbert  told  them  about  him,  who  and 
what  he  was,  of  his  meeting  with  Father  Orin, 
and  the  whole  story  of  the  money. 

«  The  poor  fellow,"  said  Sister  Teresa,  softly. 
«We  will  pray  that  the  gift  may  bring  him 
some  of  the  good  that  it  will  do  the  children. 
Yes,  we  will  hereafter  remember  him,  also,  in 
the  prayers  for  our  benefactors,"  turning  her 
gentle,  smiling  gaze  on  the  young  doctor. 

And  then  he  reddened  almost  as  suddenly  as 
Tommy  Dye  had  done,  and  he  likewise  was 
hastening  to  make  his  escape  when  Sister  Teresa 
called  him  back,  to  ask  if  he  would  not  be  pass- 
ing Cedar  House  on  the  way  home.  He  said 
that  he  would,  reddening  again.  Whereupon  the 
Sister  begged  as  a  favor,  that  he  would  stop  at 
the  door  and  tell  Ruth  to  come  on  the  next 
day,  if  possible,  to  look  at  the  sewing  which 
Sister  Angela  was  doing  for  her. 

"  Sister  Angela  is  a  wonderful  needle-woman," 
Sister  Teresa  could  not  help  adding  with  modest 
pride.  «  She  learned  to  sew  and  to  do  the  finest 
embroidery  while  she  was  studying  in  a  con- 
vent in  France.  She  could  earn  a  great  deal 
of  money  for  the  little  ones  if  we  were  where 
there  were  more  patrons  who  wished  to  have 
such  fine  sewing  done.  But  nobody  in  this  wild 


FATHER  ORIN  AND  TOBY  MEET  TOMMY  DYE    149 

country  ever  wants  it  except  Mr.  Alston  for 
Ruth." 

«  Mr.  Alston  for  Ruth,"  Paul  Colbert  repeated, 
wonderingly. 

"  Oh,  yes.  He  thinks  nothing  is  fine  enough 
for  Ruth,"  said  Sister  Teresa,  simply.  «  And  he 
pays  anything  that  Sister'  Angela  asks.  He 
never  says  a  word  about  the  price.  Sometimes 
I  fear  we  ask  too  much.  But  then,  the  children 
need  so  many  things,  and  we  have  so  few  ways 
of  earning  money.  You  won't  mind  stopping  to 
tell  Ruth,  doctor?  Ask  her  to  come  early 
to-morrow  morning,  please.  And  another  thing, 
if  it  isn't  too  much  trouble.  Tell  her  to  bring 
more  of  the  finest  thread  lace." 

This  was  the  first  time  that  Paul  Colbert  had 
heard  Philip  Alston's  name  associated  with  Ruth. 
It  was  a  shock  to  hear  the  names  called  in  the 
same  breath,  for  he  already  knew  as  much  of  Philip 
Alston  as  any  one  was  permitted  to  know.  He 
was  aware  of  the  suspicion  which  blackened  his 
reputation.  He  had  learned  this  on  first  coming 
to  the  country.  Father  Orin,  when  asked,  had 
told  him  something  of  the  reasons  for  the  general 
distrust  and  fear  of  the  man.  But  the  doctor 
himself  had  never  seen  him,  and,  naturally 
enough,  thought  of  him  as  the  usual  coarse  leader 
of  lawlessness,  only  more  daring  and  cunning, 
perhaps,  than  the  rest  of  his  kind.  Thus  it  was 
that  trying  to  understand  only  bewildered  the 
young  man  more  and  more,  so  that  he  was 


150  ROUND  ANVIL  ROCK 

still  filled  with  shocked  wonder  when  he  came 
within  sight  of  Ruth's  home. 

The  day  was  nearing  its  close.  In  the  forest 
bordering  the  bridle-path,  dark  shades  were  noise- 
lessly marshalling  beneath  the  great  trees.  But 
the  sunset  still  reddened  the  river,  and  the  re- 
flected light  shone  on  the  windows  of  Cedar 
House.  He  glanced  at  her  chamber  window 
before  seeing  that  she  stood  on  the  grass  by  the 
front  door,  giving  the  swan  bits  of  bread  from 
her  fingers  while  the  jealous  birds,  forgetting  to 
go  to  roost,  watched  and  scolded  from  the  low 
branches  overhead.  But  she  had  seen  him  a 
long  way  off  and  looked  up  as  he  approached. 

"  Isn't  he  a  bold  buccaneer  ?  "  she  said,  with  a 
smile,  meaning  the  swan.  "  We  thought  at  first 
that  he  couldn't  be  tamed  —  Mr.  Audubon,  too, 
thought  he  couldn't  —  and  we  clipped  his  wings 
to  keep  him  from  flying  away.  And  now  he 
wouldn't  go.  See !  He  is  the  most  daring  crea- 
ture. Why,  he  will  go  in  the  great  room  before 
everybody  and  walk  right  up  to  aunt  Penelope 
when  she's  making  the  coffee,  without  turning  a 
feather ! " 

It  was  not  till  he  was  leaving  that  Paul 
remembered  the  Sister's  message  which  had 
served  him  as  a  pretext  for  stopping.  And  he 
was  sorry  when  he  had  given  it,  for  a  shadow 
instantly  came  over  the  brightness  of  Ruth's 
beautiful  face.  Riding  on  to  his  cabin  he  won- 
dered what  could  have  cast  the  shadow. 


XI 

THE    DANCE    IN   THE    FOREST 

SHE  did  not  go  on  the  next  morning.  That 
day  had  been  chosen  for  the  dance  in  the  forest, 
one  of  the  two  merrymakings  dearest  to  the 
hearts  of  those  earliest  Kentuckians.  The  May 
party  came  first,  with  its  crowning  of  the  queen 
of  love  and  beauty  and  its  dance  round  the 
May-pole ;  and  after  that  this  festival  of  dancing 
and  feasting  under  the  golden  trees. 

Both  of  these  were  held  as  regularly  as  the 
opening  of  the  spring  flowers  and  the  tinting  of 
the  autumn  leaves.  No  one  ever  asked  why  or 
when  they  were  first  begun ;  it  was  never  the 
way  of  the  Kentuckians  to  ask  any  questions 
about  anything  that  they  had  always  been  used 
to.  And  indeed,  had  they  tried  ever  so  hard, 
they  could  hardly  have  found  in  their  own 
history  the  origin  of  these  ancient  customs. 
Those  must  have  been  sought  much  farther  back 
than  the  coming  of  those  first  settlers  into  the 
wilderness,  —  as  far  back,  perhaps,  as  the  oldest 
traditions  of  the  purest  stock  of  the  old  Eng- 
lish yeomanry  from  which  these  people  were 
sprung.  For  in  their  veins  throbbed  the  same 

161 


152  BOUND  ANVIL   ROCK 

warm  red  blood,  which,  having  little  to  do  with 
the  tilling  of  the  soil  or  the  building  trade,  had 
everything  to  do  with  the  fighting  of  battles 
and  the  making  of  homes.  For  in  their  strong 
simple  hearts  was  the  same  love  of  country  that 
bore  England's  flag  to  victory,  and  the  same 
love  of  the  fireside  that  made  peace  as  welcome 
as  conquest. 

And  as  these  old  English  fighters  had  danced 
with  their  sweethearts  on  the  greensward  in 
the  intervals  between  wars,  so  these  fighters  of 
the  wilderness  now  went  on  with  the  dance 
in  the  forest  just  as  if  there  had  been  no  fierce 
conflict  at  hand.  They  might  be  called  to  fight 
to-morrow  and  they  would  be  ready,  but  they 
would  dance  to-day,  just  as  their  forefathers 
had  done.  To  go  elsewhere  than  to  the  dance 
on  the  morning  selected  for  it  was,  therefore, 
not  to  be  thought  of  by  any  young  person  of  the 
neighborhood.  Ruth  had  asked  David  to  take 
her,  explaining  that  William  Pressley  could  not 
accompany  her  quite  so  early  as  she  wished  to  go. 
He  had  business  which  would  detain  him,  she 
explained  with  a  painful  blush.  And  then, 
when  she  had  said  this  with  a  troubled  look, 
she  flashed  round  on  the  boy,  demanding  to 
know  why  William  should  not  do  whatever  he 
thought  best. 

"  William  always  has  a  good  reason  for  every- 
thing he  does,  or  doesn't  do.  He  is  never 
neglectful  of  any  duty.  Never!"  with  her 


THE  DANCE   IN   THE  FOREST  153 

blue  eyes,  which  were  usually  like  turquoises, 
flashing  into  sapphires.  " He  takes  time  to 
think  —  time  to  be  sure  that  he  is  right.  He 
isn't  forever  rushing  into  mistakes  and  being 
sorry,  like  you  and  me ! " 

In  another  moment  she  laughed  and  coaxed, 
patting  his  arm. 

"Do  be  ready,  David,  dear,  and  wear  your 
nicest  clothes,"  she  said,  in  her  sweetest  way. 
"And  no  girl  there  will  have  a  handsomer  gal- 
lant than  mine,  than  my  Knight  of  the  Oracle, 
my  —  " 

The  boy  teased  but  smiling  ran  away  to  do  her 
bidding,  as  he  always  did.  He  had  no  clothes 
besides  the  worn  suit  of  homespun  which  he  was 
then  wearing,  except  one  other  of  buckskin,  gayly 
fringed  on  the  sleeves  and  on  the  outer  seam  of 
the  breeches.  This  had  been  his  pride  till  of  late. 
But  he  now  took  it  down  from  its  peg  behind 
his  cabin  door  and  eyed  it  with  new  dissatis- 
faction. Fashions  were  changing  in  the  wilder- 
ness. Gentlemen  no  longer  clothed  themselves 
in  the  skins  of  wild  beasts,  nor  even  in  the 
coarse  homespun.  Not  many,  to  be  sure,  were 
dressed  like  Philip  Alston ;  but  David  had 
lately  seen  Mr.  Audubon  hunting  in  velvet 
knee-breeches  and  white  silk  stockings,  with 
fine  ruffles  over  his  hands.  That  gentleman 
had  laughed  at  himself  for  doing  it,  but  the 
sight  had  pleased  the  boy's  taste  and  gratified 
his  craving  for  everything  refined  and  beauti- 


154  ROUND  ANVIL  ROCK 

ful.  It  humiliated  him  to  have  no  choice  be- 
tween the  shabby  homespun  and  the  fantastic 
buckskin.  But  he  tried  to  find  comfort  in 
thinking  that  he  would  have  a  boughten  suit 
before  very  long.  The  judge  had  given  him  a 
calf.  The  master  of  Cedar  House  was  always 
kind  when  he  did  not  forget,  as  has  already 
been  said,  and  he  was  most  generous  at  all 
times.  The  calf  was  now  ready  for  sale  to 
the  first  passing  buyer  of  cattle.  Neverthe- 
less, David  sighed  as  he  put  on  the  buck- 
skin suit,  wishing,  as  only  the  young  can 
wish  for  what  they  desire,  that  he  had  the 
boughten  suit  then  to  wear  to  the  dance  in 
the  forest. 

Yet  Ruth  smiled  at  him  as  if  she  were  well 
pleased  with  his  looks.  There  were,  to  be  sure, 
certain  tangles  in  the  gay  fringes  for  her  deft 
fingers  to  untangle.  There  were,  of  course, 
many  swift  little  touches  to  be  given  here  and 
there,  the  caressing  touches  that  no  true  woman 
can  withhold  from  the  dress  of  a  man  whom 
she  is  fond  of.  So  that  David's  buckskin  suit 
suddenly  seemed  to  him  just  what  it  should 
be  —  as  all  that  a  man  wears  or  has  or  is 
always  does  seem,  when  a  woman's  caressing 
touches  have  convinced  him  that  everything  is 
right.  Indeed,  David  forgot  to  think  any  more 
of  his  own  clothes  or  of  himself.  Looking  at 
Ruth  he  thought  only  of  her. 

He  did  not  know  what  it  was  that  she  wore. 


THE  DANCE  IN   THE  FOREST  155 

He  did  not  know  that  the  muslin  of  her  dress 
had  cost  an  hundred  francs  the  yard.  He  did  not 
know  how  charmingly  odd  the  mode  of  its  make 
was,  since  Ruth's  little  hands  had  planned  it  out 
of  her  own  pretty  head  in  enchanting  ignorance 
of  the  fashion.  He  knew  nothing  of  the  value  of 
the  three-cornered  kerchief  of  white  lace  which 
tied  down  her  gypsy  hat.  He  did  not  notice 
that  the  flowers  on  her  hat  were  primroses,  or 
that  the  long  gloves  meeting  the  short  sleeves  and 
the  slender  little  slippers  peeping  from  beneath 
her  skirt,  were  both  of  the  finest  primrose 
kid.  He  saw  only  the  beauty  of  her  face  smil- 
ing at  him  from  under  the  gypsy  hat,  the  sweet- 
ness of  her  red  lips,  and  the  charm  of  her 
blue  eyes.  And  she  seeing  only  the  look  that 
she  had  seen  in  every  man's  eyes  ever  since  she 
could  remember,  was  not  made  vain  thereby,  as 
a  less  beautiful  girl  might  have  been.  She  took 
it  all  for  granted  and  thought  no  more  about  it. 
Rising  on  the  tips  of  her  toes,  she  put  back  an 
unruly  lock  of  David's  hair  with  a  last  loving 
little  pat. 

"  There  now !  We  are  all  ready,"  she  said, 
with  a  happy  sigh. 

"  Yes,  the  coffee  is  the  first  thing  on  the  top 
of  the  basket,"  said  Miss  Penelope,  coming  in 
from  the  kitchen.  "  That's  it  in  the  biggest 
bottle.  You  can  have  it  warmed  over  the  camp- 
fire.  I  shouldn't  like  to  drink  warmed-over  coffee, 
myself.  But  then  nobody  in  this  house  ever 


156  BOUND   ANVIL  ROCK 

thinks  as  I  do  about  anything.  It  isn't  my 
notion  of  what's  right  and  proper  —  to  say  noth- 
ing of  Christian  —  to  be  a-dancing  when  every- 
body ought  to  be  a-praying.  Not  a  day  passes 
without  something  in  the  way  of  a  warning. 
Now  there  is  the  big  hole  that  they've  just  found 
in  the  earth  right  over  yonder  —  a  hollowness 
without  end  or  bottom,  and  as  dark  as  the  bot- 
tomless pit.  That's  what  it  ought  to  be  called, 
too  —  instead  of  the  Mammoth  Cave.  For  if 
that  don't  show  that  there  is  nothing  but  a 
dreadful,  empty  shell  left  of  this  awful  world,  I 
don't  know  what  any  true  sign  is.  But  all  the 
same,  I  know  very  well  that  nobody  in  this  house 
pays  any  attention  to  what  I  say.  Howsomever, 
the  works  of  the  light-minded  who  are  a-dancing 
on  the  edge  of  perdition  don't  make  any  differ- 
ence in  my  plain  duty.  And  I  am  a-going  to  do 
it  as  near  as  I  can  so  long  as  I  breathe  the  breath 
of  life.  When  my  cold,  stiff  hands  are  crossed 
under  the  coffin-lid,  nobody  left  'pon  top  of  this 
mournful  earth  ever  can  say  that  I  sat  by,  like 
a  bump  on  a  log,  and  never  said  a  word  when  I 
saw  all  these  awful  calamities  a-coming." 

Thus  voicing  these  vague  alarms  in  her 
sweetest  tones,  Miss  Penelope  turned  nervously 
and  glanced  at  her  half-sister.  She  was  always 
afraid  of  her,  as  very  talkative,  restless  people 
often  are  of  those  who  say  little  and  watch  a 
great  deal.  But  the  widow  Broadnax  seemed 
to  be  dozing  among  her  cushions,  and  Miss  Pen- 


THE  DANCE  IN   THE  FOREST  157 

elope  felt  it  quite  safe  to  go  on  with  the  softly 
uttered  threats  which  scattered  the  small  dark 
servitors,  who  were  still  flying  about  her  like  a 
flock  of  frightened  blackbirds,  although  the  basket 
was  packed. 

"  No,"  said  Miss  Penelope,  "  it  don't  make  any 
difference  in  my  duty.  If  folks  won't  listen  to 
what  I  am  bound  to  say,  that  is  no  fault  of  mine. 
My  duty  is  to  give  warning  when  I  see  true  signs 
of  what's  a-going  to  happen.  For  a  true  sign  is 
as  plain  as  daylight  to  me.  I  never  had  a  caul, 
and  I  don't  lay  any  claim  to  second  sight.  But 
I  know  what  it  means  when  I  hear  the  dogs 
a-baying  the  midnight  moon.  I  know,  too,  what's 
a-coming  to  pass  when  the  death-watch  goes 
thump,  thump,  thumping  in  the  wall  right  over 
my  head  the  whole  blessed  night.  And  more 
than  that,  I  was  a-looking  for  both  these  true 
signs  of  bad  luck  before  I  heard  'em.  That  big 
black  ring  round  the  comet's  head  that  I've  seen 
for  a  night  or  two  back  told  me  plain  enough 
what  to  expect.  And  look  at  the  things  that 
have  already  happened  —  all  over  the  country. 
Nobody  in  this  world  of  trouble  surely  ever  saw 
the  like.  Just  look  at  the  twins !  " 

This  was  the  chance  that  the  widow  Broad- 
nax  had  been  waiting  and  watching  for  in 
motionless  silence.  She  seized  it  as  suddenly 
as  a  seemingly  sleepy  cat  seizes  an  unwary 
mouse. 

«  I  don't  see  any  sign  of  bad  luck  in  twins,  or 


158  KOUND  ANVIL  KOCK 

triplets  either,  for  my  part,"  she  said  hoarsely 
and  loudly.  "  They  are  every  one  of  'em  bound 
to  be  whole  brothers  and  sisters.  To  my  mind, 
it  don't  make  any  difference  how  big  a  family  is 
so  long  as  it  ain't  mixed  up." 

Ruth  and  David  seized  the  basket,  and 
escaped  —  laughing  and  running  —  carrying  it 
between  them. 

The  spot  chosen  for  this  Indian  Summer  dance 
in  the  forest  was  near  Cedar  House.  It  was 
one  of  the  natural  open  spaces,  of  which  there 
were  many  in  the  wilderness,  and  it  overlooked 
the  river.  High  walls  of  thick  green  leaves 
enfolded  it  upon  three  sides,  and  it  had  a  broad 
level  floor  of  greener  sward.  It  was  sun-lit  when 
the  shadowed  woods  were  dark.  In  the  spring 
the  green-sward  was  gay  with  wild  flowers ;  for 
it  was  in  these  open  spaces  between  the  trees 
that  Nature  displayed  her  most  brilliant  floral 
treasures  which  would  not  bloom  in  the  shade. 
In  the  fall  the  leafy  walls  were  more  brilliant 
than  the  flowery  sward,  and  they  now  rose 
toward  the  azure  dome,  gorgeously  hung  with 
bronzed  and  golden  vines,  blossoming  here  and 
there  with  vivid  scarlet  leaves.  Below  ran  a 
dazzling  border  of  shrubs  —  the  sumac,  which 
does  not  wait  for  the  coming  of  the  frost  king  to 
put  on  its  royal  livery ;  the  sassafras  already 
gleaming  with  touches  of  fire ;  the  wild  grape 
as  red  as  the  reddest  wine,  and  rioting  over  all 
the  rich  green ;  the  bright  wahoo  with  its  graceful 


THE   DANCE  IN   THE  FOREST  159 

clusters  of  flame-colored  berries  overrunning  its 
soberer  neighbors  ;  the  hazel,  the  pawpaw,  the 
dog-wood,  the  red-bud,  the  spice-wood,  the  sweet- 
strife,  the  angelica.  On  the  west  the  velvet  turf 
began  to  unroll  gently  downward  toward  the 
river.  The  quiet  stream  ran  with  molten  silver 
on  that  flawless  October  day,  and  deep  shadows 
of  royal  purple  hung  curtains  of  wondrous  beauty 
above  the  water.  Back  under  the  trees  the 
shadows  were  darkly  blue,  bluer  even  than  the 
cloudless  sky  arching  so  high  above  the  tall  tree- 
tops. 

Nature  indeed  always  made  more  preparations 
and  much  finer  ones,  for  the  dance  in  the  woods 
than  the  simple  people  of  the  wilderness  ever 
thought  of  making.  The  word  merely  went  from 
one  log  house  to  another,  fixing  the  day  for  the 
dance.  The  hunters'  daughters  with  the  help  of 
their  mothers,  filled  the  big  baskets  with  simple 
good  things  on  the  night  before ;  for  the  young 
hunters  came  very  early  to  go  with  their  sweet- 
hearts to  the  festival,  and  there  was  no  time  to 
spare  on  the  morning  of  the  dance.  The  danc- 
ing sometimes  began  at  nine  o'clock  in  the  morn- 
ing. The  three  black  men  from  Cedar  House 
who  played  for  the  dancing  were  in  their  places 
long  before  that  hour,  with  their  instruments 
already  in  tune.  One  had  an  old  fiddle,  another 
the  remnant  of  a  guitar,  and  the  third  a  clumsy 
iron  triangle  which  he  had  made  himself.  Never- 
theless they  were  famous  for  their  dance  music 


160  ROUND   ANVIL  ROCK 

and  known  throughout  the  wilderness  to  all  the 
dancers.  Those  old-time  country  fiddlers  —  all 
of  them,  black  or  white  —  how  wonderful  they 
were !  They  have  always  been  the  wonder  and 
the  despair  of  all  musicians  who  have  played  by 
rule  and  note.  The  very  way  that  the  country 
fiddler  held  his  fiddle  against  his  chest  and 
never  against  his  shoulder  like  the  trained  musi- 
cian !  The  very  way  that  the  country  fiddler 
grasped  his  bow,  firmly  and  squarely  in  the 
middle,  and  never  lightly  at  the  end  like  a  trained 
musician !  The  very  way  that  he  let  go  and 
went  off  and  kept  on  —  the  amazing,  inimitable 
spirit,  the  gayety,  the  rhythm,  the  swing !  No 
trained  musician  ever  heard  the  music  of  the 
country  fiddler  without  wondering  at  its  power, 
and  longing  in  vain  to  know  the  secret  of  its 
charm.  It  would  be  worth  a  good  deal  to  know 
where  and  how  they  learned  the  tunes  that  they 
played.  Possibly  these  were  handed  down  by 
ear  from  one  to  another ;  some  perhaps  have 
never  been  pent  up  in  notes,  and  others  may  have 
been  given  to  the  note  reader  under  other  names 
than  those  by  which  the  country  fiddlers  knew 
them.  This  is  said  to  have  been  the  case  with 
"  Old  Zip  Coon,"  and  the  names  of  many  of  them 
would  seem  to  prove  that  they  belonged  to  the 
time  and  the  country.  But  there  is  a  delightful 
uncertainty  about  the  origin  and  the  history  of 
almost  all  of  them  —  about  «  Leather  Breeches  " 
and  «  Sugar  in  the  Gourd  "  and  «  Wagoner  "  and 


THE  DANCE  IN  THE  FOREST  161 

"Cotton-eyed  Joe,"  and  so  on  through  a  long 
list. 

On  this  day  the  musicians  sat  in  a  row  on  a 
fallen  tree,  and  the  grass  beside  it  was  very  soon 
worn  away,  and  the  earth  before  it  beaten  as 
hard  as  any  ballroom  floor  under  the  gay  and 
ceaseless  patting  of  their  feet.  On  the  other 
side  of  the  wide  level  space  was  a  green  bower 
made  of  freshly  cut  boughs.  This  was  a  retiring 
room,  intended  for  the  use  of  any  fair  dancer 
whose  hair  might  fall  into  disorder  or  whose 
skirt  might  be  torn  in  the  dancing.  The  baskets 
were  all  put  out  of  sight  till  wanted,  hidden 
beneath  the  bushes  that  bordered  the  open  space. 
But  now  and  then,  when  the  soft  warm  breeze 
swayed  the  leafy  screen  of  green  and  gold  and 
crimson,  there  were  tantalizing  glimpses  of  the 
folded  table-cloths  covering  the  baskets,  like 
much  belated  or  very  early  snowdrifts. 

Most  of  the  hunters'  daughters  came  to  the 
dance  riding  behind  their  sweethearts,  after  the 
pleasant  custom  of  the  country.  They  were  fine 
girls  for  their  station  in  life,  and  well  fitted  for 
the  hardships  which  must  be  their  portion.  They 
were  large,  strong,  brave,  simple,  good  — healthy 
in  body  and  mind,  warm  in  heart,  and  cool  in 
courage,  with  pleasing  faces  roughened  by  expos- 
ure, and  capable  hands  hardened  by  work. 
They  were  dressed  in  homespun  as  became  their 
looks,  their  means,  and  manner  of  living.  In 
all  things  these  future  mothers  of  a  great  state 


162  ROUND   ANVIL  ROCK 

were  the  natural  and  suitable  mates  for  the 
gallant  young  state-makers.  And  each  one  of 
the  young  hunters  now  standing  beside  them, 
held  his  head  high  as  he  led  out  the  girl  of  his 
choice,  feeling  his  own  right  to  be  prouder  and 
happier  than  any  of  his  fellows. 

The  dancing  had  begun  before  Ruth  and  David 
came,  although  they  were  so  early.  The  spot 
being  near,  they  had  walked  through  the  forest 
swinging  the  basket  between  them  like  two 
happy  children,  and  coming  to  the  open  space, 
they  stopped  for  a  moment  and  looked  on, 
thinking  what  a  pleasing  scene  it  was.  The 
girls,  tripping  through  the  dance,  smiled  at 
Ruth  as  they  passed.  They  knew  her  very 
well,  and  had  seen  her  so  often  that  they  no 
longer  looked  at  her  as  plump  brown  partridges 
might  look  at  an  exquisite  bird  of  paradise.  And 
then,  they  felt  that  Ruth  was  unconscious  of  any 
difference  between  herself  and  them.  There  was 
a  sweet,  cordial  friendliness  about  her,  an  innate 
warm-hearted,  magnetic  charm  which  won  women 
as  well  as  men.  The  hunters'  daughters  liked 
her  because  they  knew  that  she  liked  them  for, 
after  all,  most  of  us  get  what  we  give  in  our 
larger  relation  to  humanity  —  seldom,  if  ever,  any- 
thing else,  either  more  or  less.  Those  who  truly 
love  their  kind  can  never  be  really  hated :  those 
who  hate  their  kind  can  never  be  really  loved. 
The  balance  may  waver  one  way  or  the  other  at 
times,  but  it  cannot  fail  to  weigh  truly  at  last. 


THE  DANCE   IN   THE  FOREST  163 

Ruth  danced  first  with  David  and  then  with  one 
of  the  bashful  young  hunters.  But  all  the  while 
she  was  looking  toward  the  opening  in  the  under- 
growth, expecting  to  see  Paul  Colbert.  He  had 
said  that  he  would  be  there,  and  presently  she  saw 
him  standing  in  the  opening  between  the  trees, 
with  the  shining  river  at  his  back.  He  was 
wearing  his  best  and  Ruth  thought  with  a  leap 
of  her  heart,  that  she  had  not  known  till  now 
how  handsome  he  was.  His  hair  was  fairer  than 
she  had  thought,  as  fair  as  hers  was  dark,  and 
she  liked  it  all  the  better  for  that.  His  eyes 
were  gray  and  clear  and  steady  and  fearless.  He 
had  a  proud  way,  too,  of  throwing  up  his  head, 
as  if  he  tossed  away  all  petty  thoughts.  She 
saw  him  do  this  as  he  crossed  the  greensward, 
coming  straight  to  her  side.  It  pleased  her  that 
he  did  not  stop  for  a  single  glance  round.  She 
felt  his  unlikeness  to  another  man,  when  she  saw 
that  he  had  no  thought  of  any  eyes  that  might 
be  upon  himself.  And  because  of  this  comparison, 
and  the  pang  of  uneasiness  and  self-reproach 
which  it  brought,  she  blushed  when  her  eyes  met 
his  as  she  had  not  done  heretofore. 

There  is  little  use  in  trying  to  put  into  words 
what  he  thought  of  her,  or  what  any  true  lover 
thinks  of  the  beloved.  The  rose  of  the  dawn, 
and  the  breath  of  the  zephyr  were  not  glowing 
or  delicate  enough  to  portray  Ruth  as  she  was  to 
Paul  that  day.  The  beauty  of  her  face  under  the 
gypsy  hat ;  the  witchery  of  her  dark  blue  eyes 


164  ROUND  ANVIL  ROCK 

smiling  up  at  him  ;  the  pink  roses  blooming  on  her 
fair  cheeks ;  the  red  rose  of  her  perfect  mouth  — 
all  this  gave  him  at  a  glance  a  likeness  of  her  to 
lay  away  in  his  memory :  a  vivid  flashing,  im- 
perishable treasure  to  keep  forever. 

The  gayety  of  the  Indian  Summer  dance  was 
now  at  its  height.  The  mellow  sunlight  fell 
straight  down  through  the  arching  green  branches 
of  the  bordering  trees.  The  earth,  still  warm 
with  the  summer's  fires,  lifted  a  cool  face  to  the 
soft  breeze.  The  dancers  growing  tired  and 
hungry  about  noon,  sat  down  on  the  greensward 
in  little  groups,  while  the  baskets  were  taken 
from  their  hiding-places  and  the  simple  feast 
was  soon  spread.  The  black  men  served  it  with 
the  coffee  which  they  had  heated  over  the  camp- 
fire  built  at  some  distance  in  the  forest.  The 
homespun  linen  of  the  table-cloths  looked  very 
white  on  the  dark  green  of  the  rich  grass.  But 
the  single  square  of  fine  damask  from  Ruth's 
basket  was  not  whiter  than  its  humble  neighbors, 
and  she  did  not  think  of  her  finer  linen  or 
richer  food.  With  Paul  Colbert  seated  on  the 
grass  at  her  right  hand,  and  David  at  her  left, 
she  took  what  was  given  her,  knowing  only 
that  she  was  quite  content  and  perfectly  happy. 
She  was  indeed  so  happy  that  she  was  less  gay 
than  usual,  for  the  greatest  happiness  makes 
least  noise.  She  listened  to  all  that  was  said, 
saying  almost  nothing  herself.  Paul's  eyes 


THE  DANCE   IN   THE   FOREST  165 

hardly  left  her  face,  and  he  instantly  observed 
that  a  shadow  suddenly  clouded  it,  the  same 
shadow  which  had  fallen  over  it  on  the  even- 
ing before.  Turning  his  eyes  in  the  direction  of 
her  gaze,  he  saw  William  Pressley  standing  not  far 
away.  He  did  not  know  that  the  white-haired 
gentleman  who  stood  beside  the  young  man  was 
Philip  Alston,  but  he  noted  that  the  shadow 
quickly  left  Ruth's  face  at  sight  of  the  older  man, 
when,  brightening  and  smiling,  she  beckoned  the 
newcomers  to  approach.  And  he  also  saw  what 
she  seemed  not  to  see,  that  the  older  man  turned 
a  frowning  face  on  the  younger,  and  said  some- 
thing which  was  not  cordially  received.  Had  he 
known  William  Pressley  better,  he  would  have 
seen  the  dignified  protest  that  was  in  every  line  of 
his  large  slow-moving  figure  as  he  followed  Philip 
Alston  across  the  wide  open  space  to  Ruth's 
side.  To  her,  William's  very  step  said  as  plain 
as  words  could  have  spoken  that  he  was  used  to 
being  misunderstood,  but  none  the  less  sure  of 
having  done  his  whole  duty.  She  looked  up 
with  the  little  uneasy  nutter  which  this  manner 
of  his  always  caused  her.  She  so  craved  love 
and  approval  that  a  dark  look  made  her  tender 
heart  ache,  even  though  she  was  unconscious  of 
having  done  anything  to  deserve  it.  This  was 
nearly  always  the  state  of  feeling  between 
her  betrothed  and  herself,  but  up  to  this  moment 
she  had  never  doubted  that  her  own  short- 
comings were  wholly  to  blame.  She  hurriedly 


166  ROUND   ANVIL   ROCK 

drew  her  thin  skirt  closer  about  her,  nervously 
trying  to  make  room  for  him  between  David  and 
herself.  The  boy  and  doctor  rose  to  their  feet 
as  the  two  men  approached.  Ruth  sat  still  on 
the  grass,  lifting  her  blue  eyes  to  William  Press- 
ley's  face  with  a  timid,  wistful,  almost  frightened 
glance. 

"  You  have  met  Doctor  Colbert,  William,"  she 
said  quickly,  and  then  she  turned  with  a  smile 
that  was  like  a  flash  of  light.  "And  uncle 
Philip  —  Mr.  Alston  —  this  is  the  doctor." 

Paul  Colbert  in  his  utter  amazement  took  the 
hand  which  Philip  Alston  held  out.  He  could 
not  have  refused  it  had  there  been  time  to  think, 
for  her  eyes  were  on  him,  and  there  was  no 
doubting  her  affection  for  Philip  Alston ;  that 
shone  like  sunlight  on  her  face  and  thrilled  in 
every  tender  tone  of  her  voice.  The  young 
doctor  could  scarcely  believe  the  evidence  of  his 
own  eyes  and  ears.  This  Philip  Alston  !  It  was 
incredible,  impossible ;  there  was  certainly  some 
mistake.  Nevertheless  he  hastily  withdrew  his 
hand  and  Philip  Alston  noted  the  haste,  under- 
standing it  as  well  as  Paul  Colbert  himself.  His 
own  manner  was  quiet  and  calm,  showing  none 
of  the  irritation  which  he  felt  at  William  Press- 
ley's  negligence.  He  lost  none  of  his  gracious- 
ness  through  seeing  the  young  doctor's  involun- 
tary recoil.  His  intuitions  were  unerring;  he 
knew  instantly  that  this  newcomer  was  already 
acquainted  with  the  stories  told  about  himself, 


THE  DANCE  IN   THE  FOREST  167 

but  he  cared  little  for  that.  He  was  considering 
the  interference  with  his  plans  which  might  come 
from  the  sudden  appearance  of  a  young  man 
of  this  young  doctor's  looks  and  intelligence. 
Hardly  half  a  dozen  commonplace  remarks  had 
been  exchanged  between  them  before  he  had  rec- 
ognized the  unusual  power  of  mind  and  body 
which  he  might  soon  have  to  contend  with.  He 
turned  and  looked  at  William  Pressley  and  then 
back  at  Paul  Colbert  with  a  clouded  brow,  but 
he  glanced  down  with  a  smile  when  Ruth  touched 
his  arm. 

"  Dearest  uncle  Philip,"  she  said,  "  I  am  so  — 
so  —  glad  that  you  have  come.  You  are  just  in 
time  to  dance  with  me.  You  did  once,  you  know, 
at  the  May  party,  and  none  of  the  other  girls  had 
so  courtly  a  partner.  They  couldn't  have  because 
I  wouldn't  let  them  have  you.  I  should  be  jealous 
if  you  were  to  dance  with  any  one  else,  and  there 
is  no  one  anywhere  like  you." 

Looking  up  with  her  eyes  full  of  affection  she 
took  his  hand  and  pressed  it  against  her  pink 
cheek.  At  the  sight  a  stab  of  pain  and  a  thrill 
of  fear  went  through  the  doctor's  perplexed 
thoughts.  He  suddenly  realized  that  the  girl's 
life  was  closely  bound  up  with  this  man's.  He 
felt  that  any  distrust  of  him  must  wound  her, 
and  although  he  still  knew  nothing  of  the  bond 
between  them,  he  saw  that  there  could  be  no 
question  of  its  being  very  close  and  strong.  His 
first  impulse  was  to  try  to  persuade  himself  that 


168  ROUND  ANVIL   ROCK 

the  suspicion  against  Philip  Alston  might  be 
unfounded  ;  as  it  was  certainly  unproven.  And 
then,  finding  himself  unable  to  do  this,  he  felt 
tempted  to  put  the  whole  problem  of  the  man's 
guilt  or  innocence  aside,  as  no  concern  of  his 
own.  It  is  always  the  lover's  temptation  to 
shut  his  eyes  when  he  must  choose  between 
the  neglect  of  duty  and  the  wounding  of  the 
woman  he  loves.  And  alas !  this  is  a  choice 
that  comes  sooner  or  later,  in  one  form  or  an- 
other, to  all  who  love.  The  woman  sometimes 
can  find  an  invisible  thread  leading  through 
the  labyrinth  of  the  feminine  conscience  which 
may  help  her  to  follow  a  middle  course.  The 
man  never  has  any  such  subtle  resource  and  he 
knows,  from  first  to  last,  that  he  must  do  what 
is  wrong  if  he  does  not  do  what  is  right. 

Paul  Colbert's  troubled  perplexity  grew  deeper 
as  he  continued  to  look  at  Philip  Alston  and  to 
listen  as  he  talked.  The  softness  of  his  voice, 
the  culture  that  every  word  revealed,  the  intel- 
lectual quality  of  each  thought,  the  clear,  calm, 
steady  gaze  of  his  fine  eyes,  the  noble  shape  of 
his  distinguished  head  —  all  these  things  taken 
together  almost  made  the  young  doctor  feel  that 
Philip  Alston  was  the  victim  of  monstrous  cal- 
umny. And  yet  some  unerring  intuition  told 
him  that  the  terrible  things  which  he  had  heard 
were  true.  His  gaze  wandered  from  Philip  Al- 
ston to  Ruth,  and  he  grew  sick.  A  sudden  cold 
dampness  gathered  on  his  forehead  under  all  the 


THE  DANCE  IN   THE  FOREST  169 

mellow  warmth  of  the  sun.  He  began  to  wish 
that  he  could  get  away  long  enough  to  clear  his 
mind  —  to  think.  It  was  rather  a  relief  when 
Philip  Alston  suggested  that  William  Pressley 
should  lead  Ruth  out  for  the  next  dance.  Paul 
Colbert's  gaze  followed  them  as  they  walked 
away  across  the  sun-lit  grass,  but  he  scarcely 
knew  that  he  was  looking  at  them  till  Philip 
Alston  spoke. 

"They  are  a  handsome,  well-matched  young 
couple,  are  they  not  ?  "  he  said  with  a  smile,  and 
with  his  eyes  on  the  young  doctor's  face.  "  You 
know,  of  course,  that  they  are  to  be  married  on 
Christmas  Eve." 


XII 

THE   EVE   OF    ALL   SOULS* 

RUTH  saw  Paul  Colbert  when  he  passed  Cedar 
House  for  the  first  time  without  stopping.  He 
was  riding  very  fast,  and  she  feared  that  the  Cold 
Plague  must  be  growing  worse.  Still,  a  glance 
at  her  chamber  window  would  not  have  delayed 
him,  and  she  wondered  why  he  did  not  turn  his 
head.  She  was  almost  sure  he  must  know  that 
she  always  gave  the  birds  their  supper  on  the 
window-sill  at  that  hour.  She  did  not  know  that 
he  had  seen  her  without  looking,  and  had  borne 
away  in  his  heart  a  picture  of  her  slight  white 
form,  framed  by  the  sun-lit  window,  and  sur- 
rounded by  the  fluttering  birds.  Disappointed, 
wondering,  and  vaguely  troubled,  she  gazed  after 
him  as  long  as  he  was  visible  amid  the  green 
gloom  of  the  forest  path.  And  then  when  he 
was  lost  to  sight,  she  turned  sharply  on  the 
boldest  blue  jay. 

"  Go  'way,  you  greedy  thing  !  You  startled 
me.  I  wasn't  thinking  about  any  of  you.  How 
tiresome  you  all  are !  To  teach  you  better 
manners,  I  am  going  to  throw  this  down  to 
Trumpeter,"  leaning  forward  to  see  the  swan 

170 


THE  EVE  OF  ALL   SOULS'  171 

which  stood  on  the  grass  below,  anxiously  watch- 
ing everything  that  went  on  above.  "There! 
That  is  the  last  nice  fat  crumb." 

The  day  had  seemed  endlessly  long.  She 
went  wearily  down  the  stairs  again,  as  she  had 
done  many  times  since  morning.  Neither  the 
judge  nor  William  was  at  home.  Miss  Penelope 
and  the  widow  Broadnax  were  in  their  accus- 
tomed places,  and  matters  around  the  hearth 
were  going  forward  as  usual.  Miss  Penelope 
had  asked  fiercely  in  her  mildest  tone,  what 
anybody  could  expect  to  become  of  any  country, 
when  one  of  the  biggest  towns  in  it  built  a 
theatre  before  building  any  kind  of  a  church, 
as  Louisville  had  done.  The  widow  Broadnax 
had  replied  in  her  loudest,  roughest  voice,  that 
she  supposed  the  people  there,  as  well  as  else- 
where, could  keep  on  getting  married  two  or 
three  times,  and  mixing  up  families  that  other- 
wise might  have  lived  in  peace,  just  as  well 
without  a  church  as  with  one.  But  the  girl 
listened  listlessly  and  unsmilingly,  hardly  hear- 
ing what  was  said.  Going  out  of  the  room  she 
sat  for  a  long  time  on  the  doorstep,  watching 
the  forest  path  with  patient  wistfulness.  But 
there  was  no  sign  of  the  young  doctor's  coming 
back  and  it  was  a  relief  when  David  came  up 
the  river  bank.  He  reminded  her  that  she  had 
asked  him  to  go  with  her  to  the  Sisters'  house, 
and  she  arose  and  went  indoors  to  get  her 
bonnet. 


172  ROUND  ANVIL  KOCK 

"  You'd  just  as  well  take  the  orphans  one  of  the 
biggest  fatty  gourds  of  maple  sugar,"  sighed  Miss 
Penelope.  "  Ten  to  one  none  of  us  will  ever  live 
to  eat  much  of  anything,  with  that  comet  a- 
hanging  over  us.  It's  just  as  well  to  get  ready 
as  soon  as  you  can,  when  you've  been  warned. 
I  know  what  to  look  for  when  I've  dreamt  of 
wading  through  muddy  water  three  times  a-hand- 
running.  Tell  the  Sisters  that  all  the  maple  sugar 
that  was  ever  poured  into  fatty  gourds  couldn't 
hurt  the  children's  teeth  now.  The  poor  little 
things,  and  all  of  us,  will  have  mighty  little  use  for 
teeth  —  or  stomachs  either,  for  that  matter  —  if 
things  don't  take  a  turn  for  the  better  a  good  deal 
sooner  than  I  think  they  will.  For  my  part,  I  don't 
see  what  else  anybody  can  expect  with  that  big 
black  ring  round  the  comet's  head  a-getting  bigger 
and  blacker  every  night  of  our  miserable  lives." 

She  called  all  the  small  cup-bearers,  —  for 
some  unknown  reason  she  never  called  one  or  two 
without  calling  all,  —  and  sent  them  running  to 
the  smoke-house  to  fetch  the  fatty  gourd.  She 
threatened  them  fiercely  in  her  dovelike  tones, 
saying  what  she  would  do  if  they  loitered,  or 
stopped  to  put  their  little  black  paws  in  the 
sugar.  But  the  cup-bearers  knew  Miss  Penelope 
quite  as  well  as  she  knew  them,  and  when  they 
came  back  with  the  fatty  gourd  they  waited,  as 
a  matter  of  course,  till  she  gave  each  one  of  them 
a  generous  handful  of  the  sugar,  before  handing 
the  gourd  to  David. 


THE  EVE   OF  ALL  SOULS'  173 

The  Sisters'  house  was  within  walking  dis- 
tance, and  Ruth  and  David  had  gone  about  half 
the  way  when  they  met  Father  Orin  and  Toby. 
These  co-workers  were  not  moving  with  their 
usual  speed  on  account  of  an  unwieldy  burden. 
Tied  on  behind  the  priest's  saddle  was  a  great 
bag,  containing  the  weekly  mail  for  the  neighbor- 
hood. He  went  to  the  postoffice  oftener  than 
any  one  else,  and  it  had  become  his  custom  to 
fetch  the  mail  to  the  chapel  once  a  week,  and 
distribute  it  after  service  on  Sundays.  When 
possible,  he  sent  the  letters  of  those  who  were 
not  of  his  congregation  by  some  neighbor  who 
was  present ;  but  he  often  rode  miles  out  of  his 
way  to  deliver  them  with  his  own  hand.  It  was 
in  carrying  the  mail  on  a  bitter  winter's  day, 
when  the  earth  was  a  glittering  sheet  of  ice, 
that  he  had  fallen  and  broken  his  arm.  It 
was  a  serious  accident,  and  would  have  disabled 
any  one  else  for  a  long  time,  but  he  was  out 
again  and  as  busy  as  ever  within  a  few  days, 
though  he  had  to  carry  his  arm  in  a  sling  for 
several  weeks.  He  now  hailed  the  two  young 
people  with  his  kind,  merry  greeting. 

"  There's  a  great  letter  up  at  the  convent," 
he  said,  when  he  came  up  beside  them.  "  The 
Sisters  have  got  it,  and  they  will  show  it  to  you. 
Ask  them  to  read  it  to  you.  That  letter  will 
have  a  place  in  Kentucky  history.  This  is  where 
we  must  turn  out.  No,  Toby,  old  man,  there's 
no  time  for  you  to  be  listening  and  enjoying 


174  ROUND  ANVIL  ROCK 

yourself,  nor  for  nibbling  pea-vine,  either.  Move 
on,  move  on !  Good-by,  my  children.  Don't 
forget  to  ask  the  Sisters  to  show  you  the  bishop's 
letter." 

Sister  Teresa  held  it  in  her  hand  when  she 
came  to  the  door  to  meet  them.  Both  the  girl 
and  the  boy  had  been  her  pupils,  and  she  had 
formed  an  attachment  for  them  which  had  not 
been  weakened  by  their  leaving  the  little  school. 
Sister  Elizabeth  also  hastened  to  receive  them 
most  cordially.  Sister  Angela  merely  waved  her 
hand  through  the  window,  but  the  little  faces 
peeping  over  the  sill,  and  the  tops  of  the  little 
curly  heads  bobbing  up  and  down  at  her  side, 
told  why  she  could  not  come  with  the  others  to 
meet  the  welcome  guests.  Sister  Teresa  did  not 
wait  to  be  asked  to  read  the  letter,  she  was  too 
much  excited  over  it  to  forget  it  for  a  moment ; 
its  coming  was  the  greatest  event  that  the  con- 
vent had  ever  known. 

"This,  my  dear  children,"  she  began  almost 
as  soon  as  they  were  within  hearing,  "  is  a  letter 
from  Bishop  Flaget,  the  first  bishop  of  Kentucky, 
the  first  bishop  of  the  whole  northwest.  Of 
course  you  must  know,  my  dears,  that  this  is 
far  too  important  a  letter  to  have  been  written 
to  an  humble  little  community  like  ours,  or  even 
to  Father  Orin,  much  as  he  is  esteemed.  This  is 
merely  a  copy  of  the  letter  which  Bishop  Flaget 
is  sending  back  to  France,  and  the  original  was 
addressed  to  the  French  Association  for  the 


THE   EVE   OF  ALL  SOULS'  175 

Propagation  of  the  Faith.  It  was  written  in 
June  of  this  year,  soon  after  the  arrival  of 
his  Reverence  in  Kentucky,  but  our  copy  has 
reached  us  only  to-day.  Listen !  This  is  what 
he  says  about  his  coming  to  Bardstown  :  <  It  was 
on  the  9th  of  June,  1811,  that  I  made  my  entry 
into  this  little  village,  accompanied  by  two 
priests,  and  three  young  students  for  the  ecclesi- 
astical state.  Not  only  had  I  not  a  cent  in  my 
purse,  but  I  was  compelled  to  borrow  nearly  two 
thousand  francs  in  order  to  reach  my  destina- 
tion. Thus,  without  money,  without  a  house, 
without  property,  almost  without  acquaintances, 
I  found  myself  in  the  midst  of  a  diocese,  two  or 
three  times  larger  than  all  France,  containing  five 
large  states  and  two  immense  territories,  and 
myself  speaking  the  language,  too,  very  imper- 
fectly. Add  to  this  that  almost  all  the  Catholics 
were  emigrants,  but  newly  settled  and  poorly 
furnished.'  Ah,  but  he  was  welcomed  with  all 
our  hearts ! "  cried  Sister  Teresa,  with  tears 
springing  to  her  gentle  eyes.  "  Listen  to  this, 
from  another  letter,  telling  how  he  came  to 
St.  Stephen's.  It  is  like  a  beautiful  paint- 
ing —  you  can  see  how  it  looked  !  <  The  bishop 
there  found  the  faithful  kneeling  on  the  grass, 
and  singing  canticles  in  English :  the  country 
women  were  nearly  all  dressed  in  white,  and 
many  of  them  were  still  fasting,  though  it  was 
four  o'clock  in  the  evening ;  they  having  indulged 
the  hope  to  be  able  to  assist  at  his  Mass,  and 


176  ROUND   ANVIL   ROCK 

receive  the  Holy  Communion  from  his  hands. 
An  altar  had  been  prepared  at  the  entrance  of 
the  first  court  under  a  bower  composed  of  four 
small  trees  which  overshadowed  it  with  their 
foliage.  Here  the  bishop  put  on  his  pontifical 
robes.  After  the  aspersion  of  the  holy  water, 
he  was  conducted  to  the  chapel  in  procession, 
with  the  singing  of  the  Litany  of  the  Blessed 
Virgin ;  and  the  whole  function  closed  with  the 
prayers  and  ceremonies  prescribed  for  the  occa- 
sion in  Roman  Pontifical.'  Ah,  yes ;  we  did  our 
best  for  him !  " 

Sister  Teresa's  soft  eyes  were  shining  now  be- 
hind her  tears. 

"  And  hear  this,  also  written  by  the  same  dear 
friend  who  sends  us  the  bishop's  letter.  The 
priest,  M.  Badin,  to  whom  this  letter  refers,  is  in 
charge  of  St.  Stephen's,  so  that  it  was  his  duty 
as  well  as  his  pleasure  to  make  preparations  for 
the  bishop's  coming.  This  letter  says  that :  '  M. 
Badin  had  for  his  lodgings  one  poor  log  house  .  .  . 
and  it  was  with  great  difficulty  that  he  was  en- 
abled to  build  and  prepare  for  his  illustrious  friend, 
and  the  ecclesiastics  who  accompanied  him,  two 
miserable  log  cabins,  sixteen  feet  square :  and  one 
of  the  missionaries  was  even  compelled  to  sleep  on 
a  mattress  in  the  garret  of  this  strange  episcopal 
palace,  which  was  whitewashed  with  lime,  and 
contained  no  other  furniture  than  a  bed,  six 
chairs,  two  tables,  and  a  few  planks  for  a  library. 
Here  the  bishop  still  resides,  esteeming  himself 


THE  EVE  OF  ALL   SOULS'  177 

happy  to  live  thus  in  the  midst  of  apostolic 
poverty.' '  The  Sister  broke  off  suddenly.  «  But 
I  must  not  allow  you  to  stand  out  here,  my  dear 
children.  It  soon  grows  chilly  on  these  late 
fall  evenings.  Come  indoors  at  once,  my  dears. 
And  then,  Ruth,  Sister  Angela  is  very  anxious 
to  show  you  the  sewing  which  she  has  finished." 

"Oh,  I  know  how  beautiful  it  is  without 
seeing  it,"  said  Ruth,  with  a  sudden  shrinking ; 
but  she  added  hastily,  "  There  is  no  such  needle- 
woman as  Sister  Angela  anywhere." 

She  followed  the  Sister  into  the  larger  of  the 
two  rooms  which  the  house  contained.  David 
bashfully  stayed  behind,  lingering  on  the  thresh- 
old, and  keeping  man's  respectful  distance  from 
the  mysteries  of  feminine  wear.  But  the  three 
white  caps  and  the  flower-wreathed  bonnet 
drew  close  together  over  the  dainty  gar- 
ments, all  a  foam  of  lace  and  ruffles  and  em- 
broidery. David  heard  the  terms  rolling  and 
whipping,  and  felling  and  overcasting  and  hem- 
stitching and  herring-boning  which  were  an  un- 
known tongue  to  him.  Ruth  praised  everything, 
till  even  Sister  Angela  was  quite  satisfied.  That 
pretty  young  sister  was  indeed  so  elated  that 
she  turned  to  admire  Ruth's  dress  but  the  Sister 
Superior  gently  reminded  her  that  it  was  the 
eve  of  All  Souls',  when  they  and  every  one 
should  be  thinking  of  graver  things. 

"This  year  the  souls  and  the  safety  of  the 
living,  as  well  as  the  repose  of  the  dead, 


178  ROUND  ANVIL   ROCK 

will  need  all  our  prayers,"  said  Sister  Teresa. 
"There  seems  no  doubt  of  the  war  with  the 
Shawnees.  Ah  me,  ah  me !  And  the  Cold 
Plague  growing  worse  every  day ! " 

"But  Doctor  Colbert  is  curing  that,"  said 
Ruth,  eagerly. 

"  As  God  wills,  my  daughter,"  said  the  Sister, 
making  the  sign  of  the  cross.  "More  recover, 
certainly,  since  he  came.  Before,  the  little  ones 
always  died." 

"  He  told  me  that  three  babies  were  coming  to 
you  yesterday.  Are  they  here  ?  The  poor,  poor 
little  things  !  And  may  I  see  them,  Sister  ?  I 
should  like  to  help  take  care  of  them,  if  I 
might,"  Ruth  said  timidly,  not  knowing  that 
her  pink  cheeks  bloomed  into  blush  roses. 

The  Sister  led  the  way  into  the  other  room  — 
the  first  orphan  asylum  in  the  wilderness  —  and 
Ruth  smiled  and  talked  to  the  desolate  little 
waifs  of  humanity  as  brightly  as  she  could  with 
dim  eyes  and  quivering  lips.  She,  herself,  and 
David,  also,  had  been  like  this.  He  had  followed 
her  into  the  room,  and  was  now  standing  by  her 
side,  so  that  she  could  clasp  his  hand  and  hold  it 
close. 

Walking  homeward  through  the  darkening 
shadows  of  the  forest,  she  still  held  his  hand. 
Both  were  thinking  sadly  enough  of  their  own 
coming  into  this  wild  country,  they  knew  not  — 
whence  or  how  or  wherefore  —  and  were  never 
to  know. 


THE   EVE  OF  ALL   SOULS'  179 

"  Fathers  and  mothers  must  go  suddenly  when 
they  leave  their  children  so,"  said  Ruth,  mus- 
ingly. "  Ours  must  have  died  —  " 

"  Or  have  been  murdered ! "  David  broke  out 
fiercely. 

"  No,  no  ! "  cried  Ruth,  shrinking  closer  to  his 
side.  "  I  could  not  bear  to  think  that." 

But  the  boy  went  on,  as  if  speaking  thoughts 
which  had  long  rankled  in  bitter  silence.  "  It 
isn't  so  bad  as  to  believe  that  they  deserted  us, 
or  died  without  leaving  a  word.  Fathers  and 
mothers  who  love  their  children  well  enough  to 
bear  them  in  their  arms  through  hundreds  of 
weary  miles  over  high  mountains  and  down  long 
rivers,  and  into  the  depths  of  the  wilderness, 
would  never  desert  them  at  the  hard  journey's 
end.  Fathers  and  mothers  who  loved  their  chil- 
dren so  dearly  could  hardly  be  taken  away  by 
lightning  so  quickly  that  they  would  not  leave 
behind  a  single  token  of  their  love.  And  we 
have  never  seen  a  sign  showing  that  ours  ever 
lived.  There  is  something  wrong  —  something 
unaccounted  for  —  something  that  we  have  not 
been  permitted  to  know  ! " 

"  David,  dear,  dear  David  ! " 

"  I  have  always  believed  it  —  ever  since  I  have 
been  able  to  think.  As  soon  as  I  am  old  enough 
to  speak  like  a  man,  I  mean  to  demand  the  truth 
from  Philip  Alston  ! " 

She  dropped  his  hand  and  drew  away  from 
him  with  a  look  of  wondering  distress.  It  was 


180  ROUND  ANVIL  ROCK 

the  one  thing  over  which  they  had  ever  dis- 
agreed. 

"  You  must  never  again  say  anything  of  that 
kind  to  me,  David,"  she  said  firmly.  "  I  beg 
that  you  will  never  say  it  to  any  one,  never  even 
think  it.  For  in  thinking  it,  let  alone  saying  it, 
you  are  not  only  unjust,  but  ungrateful.  What 
possible  object  could  Philip  Alston  have  in  con- 
cealing anything  that  he  might  know  about  you 
and  me  ?  Hasn't  he  always  been  our  best  friend  ?  " 

And  then  the  quick  anger  which  had  flashed 
out  of  her  loyalty  turned  to  gentle  pleading. 

"  I  can't  bear  a  word  said  against  him,  dear. 
And  it  grieves  me  to  see  you  making  yourself 
unhappy  over  such  useless  brooding.  What 
does  it  matter,  after  all  —  our  knowing  nothing 
about  ourselves,  who  we  are,  or  where  we  came 
from?  We  are  happy,  everybody  is  kind  and 
good  to  us." 

They  started  at  the  sound  of  a  voice  calling 
her  name,  and  they  saw  William  Pressley  come 
out  of  the  dark  shadows  beneath  the  trees,  and 
stand  still,  waiting  for  them  to  approach. 

"  It  is  late,  my  dear,  for  you  to  be  roaming 
about  the  woods  like  this,"  he  said,  when  they 
were  near  enough. 

He  used  the  term  of  endearment  in  the  tone 
of  calm,  moderate  reproof  which  a  justly  dis- 
pleased, but  self-controlled  husband  sometimes 
uses.  And  Ruth  felt  the  resentment  that  every 
woman  feels  at  its  unconscious  mockery. 


THE   EVE   OF  ALL   SOULS'  181 

"Why,  there  isn't  any  danger,"  she  said. 
«We  haven't  been  out  of  sight  and  hearing 
from  Cedar  House." 

"I  was  thinking  of  seemliness,  not  of  dan- 
ger," William  Pressley  replied  coldly.  « And 
then  Mr.  Alston  is  waiting  for  you." 

Ruth  moved  nearer,  and  laid  her  hand  on  his 
arm,  smiling  rather  timidly,  'with  conciliatory, 
upward  glances.  Her  first  effort,  whenever  they 
met,  was  always  to  make  something  right  — 
often  before  she  could  remember  what  it  was 
that  she  had  done  or  not  done  to  displease 
him.  This  feeling  was  the  natural  attitude  of 
a  gentle,  loving  nature  toward  a  harsh,  unloving 
one,  and  it  was  the  most  natural  thing  of  all 
that  he  should  mistake  her  gentleness  for  weak- 
ness ;  that  he  should  mistake  her  fear  of  giv- 
ing offence  for  a  lack  of  moral  courage.  This 
is  a  common  mistake  often  made  by  those  who 
care  little  for  the  feelings  of  others,  about  those 
who  care,  perhaps,  too  much.  And  as  the 
three  young  people  walked  along  toward  Cedar 
House,  Ruth  gave  David  her  left  hand,  and 
spoke  to  him  now  and  then,  just  as  affec- 
tionately and  freely  as  she  had  done  while  they 
had  been  alone.  William  Pressley  did  not  speak 
to  the  boy  at  all  or  notice  him  in  any  way.  He 
did  not  dislike  him,  for  he  never  disliked  any- 
thing that  was  not  of  some  importance.  He 
disapproved  of  his  impractical,  visionary  char- 
acter, and  thought  that  it  might  have  rather  an 


182  ROUND  ANVIL   ROCK 

undesirable  influence  over  Ruth.  For  this  reason 
he  tacitly  discouraged  all  intimacy  between  them, 
but  he  did  not  take  the  trouble  to  express  it  and 
merely  ignored  the  lad.  And  David,  seeing  how 
it  was,  felt  instantly  and  strongly,  that  being 
overlooked  was  harder  to  bear  than  being  mis- 
used —  as  most  of  us  are  apt  to  feel. 

"We  have  been  at  the  Sisters'  house,"  said 
Ruth,  shyly,  breaking  a  strained  silence.  «  They 
sent  for  me  —  to  see  the  sewing  that  Sister 
Angela  has  been  getting  ready  for  Christmas 
Eve." 

William  Pressley  looked  down  at  her  uplifted, 
blushing  face,  and  smiled,  as  the  most  self-centred 
and  serious  of  men  must  do,  when  the  girl  who 
is  to  be  his  wife  speaks  to  him  of  her  wedding 
clothes. 


XIII 

SEEING    WITH    DIFFERENT    EYES 

IT  was  on  the  boy's  account  that  they  had 
their  first  and  last  serious  quarrel  a  few  hours 
later.  This  was  by  no  means  the  first  time  that 
they  had  openly  disagreed,  -&nd  had  come  to 
rather  sharp  words.  Their  views  of  many  things 
were  too  far  apart  for  that  to  have  been  the  case, 
but  there  had  never  before  been  any  great  or 
lasting  trouble  by  reason  of  their  difference  of 
opinion.  Ruth,  gentle  and  yielding,  was  ever 
most  timidly  fearful  of  being  at  fault ;  William, 
hard  and  unyielding,  was  always  perfectly  cer- 
tain of  being  in  the  right.  It  was  therefore  to 
be  expected  that  his  opinions  should  generally 
rule,  and  that  he  should  construe  her  readiness 
to  yield  and  her  self-distrust,  as  proofs  that 
he  was  not  mistaken.  Rock-ribbed  infallibility 
could  hardly  be  expected  to  comprehend  the 
doubts  that  assail  a  sensitive  soul. 

William,  naturally  enough,  had  never  noted 
that  in  giving  way,  Ruth  had  not  turned  far  or 
long  from  anything-  involving  a  principle.  The 
truth  was  that  she  had  merely  evaded  his  in- 
tolerance of  any  and  all  difference  of  opinion  — 

183 


184  ROUND   ANVIL  ROCK 

as  a  deep  stream  quietly  flows  round  an  immov- 
able rock  —  only  to  turn  gently  back  into  its  own 
course  as  soon  as  might  be.  And  even  in  doing 
this,  she  had  put  aside  only  her  own  opinions  and 
feelings  and  rights,  never  those  of  any  one  else. 
But  this  present  dispute  over  David  was  wholly 
unlike  any  that  had  gone  before.  This  concerned 
the  boy's  feelings  and  rights,  so  that  she  sud- 
denly found  herself  forced  to  take  a  firm  stand 
— affection,  justice,  and  even  mercy,  now  forbid- 
ding her  to  yield.  Yet  it  was,  nevertheless,  just 
as  clear  to  her  in  this  as  in  everything  else,  that 
William  sincerely  thought  he  was  right.  That 
was  the  trouble.  That  is  always  the  trouble 
with  people  like  William  Pressley,  who  are  often 
harder  to  deal  with  and  sometimes  harder  to 
live  with,  than  those  who  knowingly  do  wrong. 
The  three  had  scarcely  entered  the  great  room 
of  Cedar  House  that  evening,  when  the  judge 
asked  the  boy  to  go  on  an  errand  to  a  neighbor's. 
This  was  to  take  some  seed  wheat  which  the 
judge  had  promised  to  send  for  the  fall  sowing. 
The  growing  of  wheat  was  still  an  interesting 
and  important  experiment  which  was  exciting 
the  whole  country.  There  had  been  good  corn 
in  abundance  from  the  first ;  on  those  deep,  rich, 
river-bottom  lands  the  grains  had  but  to  reach 
the  fertile  earth  to  produce  an  hundred  bushels 
to  the  acre.  But  the  settlers  were  tired  of  eating 
corn-bread  ;  their  wives  and  children  were  pining 
for  the  delicate  white  loaves  made  from  the 


SEEING  WITH  DIFFERENT  EYES  185 

sweet  fine  wheat  which  they  had  eaten  in  their 
old  Virginia  homes.  So  that  the  culture  of  the 
best  wheat  had  lately  become  a  vital  question, 
and  this  new  seed  was  making  a  stir  of  eager 
interest  throughout  the  region.  Philip  Alston 
had  given  it  to  the  judge,  and  he,  in  turn,  was 
dividing  it  among  the  neighbors.  Each  grain 
was  accordingly  treasured  and  valued  like  a 
grain  of  gold,  and  the  judge  cautioned  the  boy 
to  be  careful  in  tying  the  bag ;  wheat  in  the 
grain  is  a  slippery  thing  to  handle,  and  he 
wished  none  of  this  to  be  lost. 

"You  must  have  a  good,  strong  string  —  one 
that  can't  slip,"  said  Ruth,  in  her  thoughtful, 
housewifely  way.  "  Let  me  think  —  what  kind 
would  be  best  ?  " 

"  Here  ! "  the  judge  drew  out  his  wallet,  and 
took  off  the  string  that  bound  it.  "You  may 
use  this,  David,  but  take  care  not  to  lose  it. 
This  is  the  strongest,  finest  strip  of  doeskin  —  " 

Ruth's  sweet  laughter  chimed  in,  "It  looks 
like  minkskin  —  it's  so  black!"  touching  it 
gingerly  with  the  tips  of  her  fingers. 

The  judge  laughed,  too.  Everything  that  she 
said  and  did  pleased  him.  But  he  cautioned  the 
boy  again  not  to  lose  the  string,  and  to  be  careful 
to  bring  it  back.  William  Pressley  looked  on 
in  grave,  indifferent  silence.  A  slight  frown 
gathered  on  his  brow  when  he  saw  Ruth  trying 
the  knot,  to  make  sure  of  its  firmness,  after  the 
bag  was  tied.  His  gaze  darkened  somewhat  and 


186  ROUND  ANVIL  KOCK 

followed  her  when  she  went  to  the  door  to  see 
the  boy  set  out ;  and  he  watched  her  stand  looking 
after  him,  with  her  hands  raised  to  shield  her 
eyes  from  the  rays  of  the  setting  sun.  It  dis- 
pleased William  to  see  her  show  such  regard  for 
any  one  of  so  little  importance  —  the  personality 
of  the  boy  did  not  enter  into  the  matter.  While 
gazing  at  her  in  this  cold  disapproval,  he  noted 
with  increased  annoyance  that  she  then  turned 
and  looked  long  and  wistfully  toward  the  forest 
path.  It  did  not  occur  to  him  that  she  might 
be  expecting  or  wishing  to  see  some  one  riding 
along  the  path.  He  was  merely  irritated  at 
what  seemed  to  him  an  indication  of  unseemly 
restlessness  and  empty-mindedness.  To  his  mind 
the  unusual  and  the  unseemly  were  always  one 
and  the  same.  And  it  was  eminently  unseemly 
in  his  eyes  that  the  woman  who  was  to  be  his 
wife  should  wish  to  look  away  from  the  spot  in 
which  he  was  sitting.  And  then,  his  displeasure 
turned  to  anger  when  Ruth,  after  standing  still 
and  gazing  up  the  forest  path,  till  he  felt  that 
he  must  go  out  to  her  and  utter  the  reproof 
that  was  on  his  lips,  did  not  come  back  to  her 
seat  by  his  side,  but  began  instead  to  play  with 
the  swan. 

He  sat  motionless  and  silent,  calmly  biding  his 
time  to  express  the  disapproval  which  such 
childish  behavior  made  incumbent  upon  him. 
Cold,  hard  anger  like  his  can  always  wait ;  and 
waiting  only  makes  it  colder  and  harder ;  there 


SEEING  WITH   DIFFERENT  EYES          187 

is  never  heat  enough  in  it  to  melt  its  merciless 
ice. 

A  sudden  darkening  of  the  sky  sent  her  into  the 
house  at  last,  and  even  then  she  did  not  return 
to  her  proper  place  by  his  side.  She  did  not 
even  look  at  him,  but  spoke  to  the  judge  who 
was  just  leaving  the  great  room  to  go  to  the 
cabin  which  he  used  as  his  bedroom  and  office. 
Ruth  begged  him  not  to  start  out,  saying  that  the 
storm  seemed  so  near  that  it  might  break  before 
he  could  reach  the  cabin.  But  he  went  on  with 
a  smiling  shake  of  his  head,  after  a  glance  at 
the  dark  clouds  which  were  gathering  blackly 
on  the  other  side  of  the  river  behind  the  spectral 
cotton-woods,  now  bare  of  leaves  and  ghostly 
white. 

"  Did  David  have  to  go  through  the  big  deaden- 
ing, William  ?  "  she  asked  suddenly,  speaking  over 
her  shoulder,  without  leaving  her  anxious  post  in 
the  doorway,  though  the  wind  was  whipping  her 
skirts  about  her  slender  figure  and  loosing  her 
long,  black  hair.  "  I  wish  he  would  come.  He 
should  be  back  by  this  time.  I  am  afraid  —  the 
great  trees  fall  so  in  a  storm.  Father  Orin  and 
the  doctor,  too,  often  ride  through  there.  And 
it  is  such  a  dangerous  place  when  the  wind 
blows.  Oh ! "  with  a  cry  of  relief,  "  there's 
David  now !  Here  he  comes.  David,  David 
dear  —  I  am  so  glad  ! " 

She  sprang  down  the  steps  and  ran  to  meet 
the  boy.  The  rush  of  the  rising  storm  kept  her 


188  ROUND  ANVIL  ROCK 

from  hearing  William  Pressley's  call  for  her  to 
come  back.  He  stood  still  for  a  moment,  hesitat- 
ing, and  then,  seeing  that  she  flew  on,  he  fol- 
lowed and  overtook  her  just  as  she  reached  David, 
who  was  getting  down  from  the  pony  and  taking 
the  empty  bag  from  the  saddle.  The  wind  was 
now  very  violent,  and  the  darkened  air  was  thick 
with  the  dead  leaves  of  the  forest  swirling  into  the 
river  which  was  already  lashed  into  waves  and 
dashing  against  the  shore.  Waterfowl  flew  land- 
ward with  frightened  cries ;  a  low,  dark  cloud 
was  being  drawn  up  the  stream  over  the  ashen 
face  of  the  water  —  a  strange,  thick,  terrible 
black  curtain,  shaken  by  the  tempest  and  bor- 
dered by  the  lightning  —  pressed  onward  by  the 
resistless  powers  of  the  air. 

There  was  a  lull  just  as  William  Pressley 
reached  Ruth's  side.  It  was  one  of  those  tense 
spaces  which  are  among  the  greatest  terrors  of  a 
storm  by  reason  of  their  suddenness,  their  still- 
ness, and  their  suspense.  He  grasped  her  hand, 
and  she  clung  to  his  as  she  would  have  clung  to 
anything  that  she  chanced  to  touch  in  her  fright. 
He  said  rather  sternly  that  she  must  come  to  the 
house  at  once,  and  she  turned  obediently,  follow- 
ing the  motion  of  his  hand  rather  than  the  mean- 
ing of  his  words.  He  spoke  to  David  also,  with- 
out looking  at  the  boy,  but  she  was  clinging  to 
him  and  hiding  her  face  on  his  arm  whenever 
the  lightning  flashed,  and  did  not  notice  what 
he  had  said  until  he  repeated  his  words :  — 


SEEING  WITH   DIFFERENT   EYES          189 

"You  have  of  course  brought  back  the  doe- 
skin string." 

Ruth  suddenly  lifted  her  face  from  his  arm, 
loosed  her  grasp  upon  it  and  stood  away  from  him. 
Yet  in  that  first  dazed  instant  she  could  not  be- 
lieve that  she  had  heard  aright.  It  was  impos- 
sible for  her,  being  what  she  was,  to  understand 
that  he  had  never  in  all  his  life  done  anything 
more  true  to  his  nature,  more  thoroughly  charac- 
teristic, than  to  ask  this  question  at  such  a  time. 
She  forgot  the  lightning  while  she  waited  till  he 
asked  it  for  the  third  time.  And  then,  straining 
her  incredulous  ears  again,  she  heard  the  boy  mur- 
mur something,  and  she  saw  him  hurriedly  and 
confusedly  searching  his  pockets  for  the  string. 

"  I  can't  find  it,"  he  stammered.  "  I  must 
have  dropped  it  when  I  poured  out  the  wheat. 
I  am  so  sorry  —  I  will  go  to-morrow  —  " 

"You  will  go  now;"  said  William,  calmly. 
« The  string  will  be  lost  by  to-morrow.  And 
then,"  judicially,  "  you  will  remember  a  needed 
lesson  better  if  you  go  at  once." 

"  William ! "  burst  out  Ruth  almost  with  a 
scream.  "  You  can't  mean  what  you  say.  Listen 
to  the  roar  of  the  coming  storm.  It's  almost 
here.  Surely  you  don't  know  what  you  are 
saying.  Send  David  through  the  deadening  in 
the  very  teeth  of  a  tempest  like  this,  for  a  bit 
of  string ! " 

«  Come  to  the  house,  my  dear.  It  is  beginning 
to  rain.  I  am  afraid  you  will  take  cold.  You, 


190  ROUND  ANVIL   ROCK 

sir,  will  go  back  at  once,"  turning  to  the  boy. 
"You  know,  of  course,  that  the  string  itself  is 
of  no  importance  in  this  matter.  It  is  absurd 
to  speak  of  such  a  thing.  But  it  is  my  duty  to 
teach  you,  as  far  as  I  can,  to  perform  yours.  I 
tell  you  again  to  go  at  once.  That  is  all  I  have 
to  say,  I  believe,  concerning  this  matter.  Come, 
Ruth,  it  is  beginning  to  rain." 

She  shrunk  away  from  his  hand  as  if  its  touch 
horrified  her.  Her  tears  were  falling  faster  than 
the  heavy,  isolated  drops  that  fell  on  her  bare 
head.  But  her  courage  was  rising  at  need,  as  it 
always  rose,  and  she  was  not  too  much  blinded 
by  tears  to  see  that  the  boy  was  getting  on  the 
pony  again.  She  ran  to  him  and  caught  his 
sleeve,  and  turned  upon  William  Pressley  with 
the  reckless  fierceness  of  a  gentle  creature  made 
daring  in  defence  of  what  it  loves. 

"You  are  cruel,"  she  said,  speaking  calmly, 
steadied  by  the  very  extremity  of  her  excitement 
and  distress.  "  You  have  no  more  heart  than  a 
stone.  You  feel  nothing  that  does  not  touch 
yourself.  You  have  always  been  unkind  to 
David.  But  you  shall  not  do  this.  I  will  pre- 
vent you  —  defy  you.  You  shall  not  send  him  to 
his  death  for  some  narrow,  tyrannical  notion. 
He  is  like  my  brother.  I  love  him  as  if  he  were. 
And  I  wouldn't  allow  you  to  treat  a  stranger  so. 
It's  inhuman !  It  shall  not  be ! "  panting,  and 
clinging  to  the  boy. 

William  Pressley  stared  at  her  as  if  he  thought 


SEEING  WITH   DIFFERENT  EYES           191 

she  had  suddenly  lost  her  senses.  Could  this  be 
Ruth  speaking  like  that  —  and  to  himself  ?  In- 
stinctively he  threw  into  his  voice  the  whole 
weight  of  his  heavy,  cold  rage,  which  had  never 
yet  failed  to  crush  all  life  and  spirit  out  of  her 
most  fiery  resistance. 

"  This  is  truly  shocking.  I  scarcely  know 
what  to  say.  I  am  merely  trying  to  do  my 
unpleasant  duty  in  a  perfectly  simple  matter. 
If  I  didn't  try  to  do  it,  I  should  always  think 
less  well  of  myself  —  " 

"Think  less  well  of  yourself!"  she  cried. 
"  Nothing  in  the  world  could  ever  make  you  do 
that !  Nothing !  Whatever  you  think  and  say  and 
do  is  always  right ;  whatever  anybody  else  thinks 
or  says  or  does  is  always  wrong.  I  have  given 
up  in  almost  everything  because  I  loved  peace 
more  than  my  own  way,  and  because  I  am  not 
often  sure  that  I  know  best.  But  I  will  not 
give  up  in  this  !  "  shrinking  and  quivering  at  a  peal 
of  thunder,  but  clinging  closer  to  the  boy's  arm. 

William  Pressley  came  nearer  and  laid  his  hand 
on  her  shoulder. 

"  Come  to  the  house,  my  dear,"  he  said  quietly. 
"  It  is  beginning  to  rain  harder.  You  will  cer- 
tainly take  cold.  Come  at  once.  When  you  have 
time  to  think,  you  will  see  how  childish  and  fool- 
ish all  this  is.  We  will  say  no  more  about  it. 
You,  sir,  know  what  is  right  for  you  to  do.  You 
know  as  well  as  I  do  what  the  judge's  positive 
orders  were.  You  have  disregarded  them  —  " 


192  ROUND   ANVIL   ROCK 

"  But  uncle  Robert  never  meant  anything  like 
this,"  she  said.  "  He  is  kind  and  tender-hearted. 
I  will  call  him.  He  would  not  —  " 

The  boy  had  turned  proudly  and  silently,  mean- 
ing to  get  back  in  the  saddle,  but  she  would  not 
loose  her  hold  on  his  arm.  And  then  came  the 
first  furious  blast  of  the  tempest,  and  the  greatest 
trees  —  the  mightiest  giants  of  the  ancient  forest 
—  bent  and  crouched  before  it,  bracing  them- 
selves for  the  fierce  conflict  with  the  elements  in 
which  they  must  gain  or  lose  centuries  of  life. 
The  rain  now  began  to  fall  heavily,  and  William 
abruptly  told  the  boy  to  come  in  the  house  till 
the  storm  was  over.  In  yielding  thus  far,  he 
was  not  influenced  by  Ruth's  threat  to  appeal  to 
his  uncle.  He  had  scarcely  heard  what  she  said, 
and  he  was  never  in  awe  of  the  judge's  opinion, 
and  never  looked  for  opposition  from  any  source, 
because  he  could  not  anticipate  an  opinion  differ- 
ent from  his  own.  He  merely  dropped  the  argu- 
ment for  the  moment  because  he  saw  the  urgent 
necessity  of  bringing  an  undignified  scene  to  a 
speedy  close,  and  could  not  see  any  other  or 
better  way  of  doing  it. 

When  they  had  gone  indoors  and  had  gathered 
around  the  fire,  so  that  their  damp  clothes  might 
dry,  he  was  by  far  the  most  composed  of  the 
three.  The  boy  was  deeply  agitated  and  suffer- 
ing as  only  the  supersensitive  can  suffer  from 
harshness,  whether  merited  or  not.  Ruth  was  still 
quivering  with  excitement  and  distress,  and  very 


SEEING  WITH   DIFFERENT  EYES          193 

soon  her  tender  conscience  also  was  aching.  She 
could  not  recall  very  distinctly  all  that  she  had 
said,  but  she  knew  how  bitter  her  words  must 
have  been,  and  was  already  wondering  how 
she  ever  could  have  uttered  them.  How  they 
came  in  her  mind  and  heart  she  could  not  com- 
prehend. She  had  always  thought  William  a 
good  man,  and  worthy  of  all  respect,  and  she 
now  felt  that  there  had  been  much  truth  in  what 
he  had  said.  David  was  a  dreamer,  poor  boy, 
and  it  would  be  well  if  he  could  be  taught  to 
remember,  to  be  practical  and  useful  like  other 
people.  She  still  could  not  think  it  right  for  him 
to  have  been  forced  to  go  back  through  the  storm 
to  correct  an  error;  but  she  now  thought  that 
William  had  not  really  intended  to  send  him. 
It  seemed  suddenly  plain  that  William's  sole 
intention  must  have  been  to  impress  him  with 
the  necessity  of  doing  what  he  was  told  to  do. 
She  had  scolded  the  boy  herself  about  that  very 
thing  many  a  time.  The  fault  was  hers,  she 
had  been  too  hasty,  too  excitable,  too  impetuous. 
Ah,  yes,  that  was  always  her  fault !  She  looked 
at  William  with  everything  that  she  thought 
and  felt  clearly  to  be  seen  on  her  transparent 
face.  But  a  ray  of  comfort  shone  through  the 
cloud  which  darkened  her  spirits.  Surely  this  and 
everything  else  would  be  well  when  she  had  told 
him  how  sorry  she  was,  and  how  plainly  she  saw 
her  mistake.  They  had  been  such  good  friends 
as  far  back  as  she  could  remember ;  the  bond 


194  ROUND   ANVIL   ROCK 

between  them  had  been  such  a  close  and  strong 
one  that  it  certainly  could  not  be  broken  or  even 
strained  by  a  few  hasty,  passionate  words,  re- 
pented at  once.  Her  lovely  eyes  were  already 
seeking  his  face  and  silently  appealing  to  this 
old  and  faithful  affection. 

But  William's  gaze  did  not  meet  hers.  He 
was  looking  into  the  fire  and  seeing  what  had 
occurred  with  wholly  different  eyes.  To  him 
everything  was  altered,  and  nothing  could  ever 
make  the  relation  between  them  what  it  had 
been.  No  tenderness  of  affection,  no  length  of 
association,  no  faithfulness  of  service,  could  stand 
for  an  instant  against  a  single  one  of  the  many 
blows  that  his  morbid  self-love  had  received.  For 
self-love  like  his  is  an  incurable  disease  of  sensi- 
bility, a  spreading  canker  which  poisons  the  whole 
character,  as  an  unsound  spot  in  the  flesh  poisons 
the  whole  body.  To  those  who  have  not  come 
in  close  contact  with  this  form  of  morbidity,  it 
may  seem  impossible  that  William  Pressley's  love 
for  Ruth,  which  had  been  real  so  far  as  it  went, 
should  have  hardened  into  dislike  almost  as 
soon  as  the  words  that  wounded  it  had  left  her 
lips.  Yet  that  was  precisely  what  had  taken 
place,  quite  naturally  and  even  inevitably.  He 
had  loved  her  as  much  as  he  was  capable  of 
loving,  mainly  because  of  the  deep  gratification 
which  he  found  in  her  great  esteem  for  himself. 
No  one  else  had  ever  come  so  near  granting  his 
self-love  all  that  it  demanded.  Her  sweet  pres- 


SEEING  WITH   DIFFERENT  EYES          195 

ence,  always  looking  up  to  him,  had  been  like 
the  perpetual  swinging  of  a  censer  perpetually 
giving  the  fragrant  incense  that  his  vanity  craved. 
And  now  all  this  was  changed.  The  gentle  aco- 
lyte was  gone,  the  censer  no  longer  swung,  and 
instead  there  was  a  keen  critic  armed  with  words 
as  hard  as  stones.  No,  there  was  nothing  strange 
in  the  fact  that,  when  William  Pressley  finally 
turned  his  gaze  on  Ruth,  he  looked  at  her  as  if 
she  had  been  a  stranger  whom  he  had  never  seen 
before  ;  an  utter  stranger,  and  one  moreover  whose 
presence  was  so  utterly  antagonistic  to  him  that 
there  was  not  the  remotest  possibility  of  any 
liking  between  them.  But  he  said  nothing,  and 
gave  no  indication  of  what  he  felt.  No  feeling 
was  ever  strong  enough  to  cause  him  to  say  or  do 
an  unconsidered  thing.  In  this,  as  in  all  things, 
he  waited  to  be  sure  that  he  was  doing  what 
would  place  himself  in  the  best  possible  light. 
While  he  had  never  a  moment's  doubt  of  being 
wholly  in  the  right,  he  thought  it  best  to  wait 
and  consider  his  own  appearance  in  the  matter. 
And  then,  just  at  that  time,  political  affairs 
were  claiming  his  first  attention,  for  that  was  a 
period  of  intense  public  stress. 


XIV 

A   SPIRITUAL    CENTAUR 

THE  whole  wilderness,  the  whole  country,  the 
whole  heart  of  the  nation,  was  now  aflame  over 
the  coming  conflict  at  Tippecanoe. 

Father  Orin,  like  every  one  else,  was  thinking 
of  this,  a  day  or  so  later,  as  he  rode  along  the 
forest  path.  There  was  a  heavy  weight  in  his 
merciful  breast  as  he  looked  across  the  river. 
Over  there,  beyond  those  spectral  cotton-woods 
and  on  the  banks  of  its  tributary,  the  Wabash, 
the  white  and  the  red  races  were  about  to  meet 
in  a  supreme  struggle  now  close  at  hand.  He 
had  just  been  told  that  Joe  Daviess  had  offered 
his  sword,  and  the  news  had  brought  the  public 
trouble  home  to  his  own  heart,  for  he  loved  the 
man. 

And  thus  it  was  that,  seeing  Tommy  Dye  rid- 
ing toward  him,  he  had  only  a  grave  word  of 
greeting,  without  any  of  the  merry  banter  that 
the  adventurer  had  come  to  expect.  He  stopped, 
however,  feeling  that  Tommy  had  something  to 
say,  but  he  listened  in  rather  abstracted  silence, 
till  Tommy  spoke  of  having  been  to  see  the  Sis- 
ters in  order  to  tell  them  good-by. 

196 


A  SPIRITUAL  CENTAUR  197 

"For  I  am  going  to  Tippecanoe,  too.  I  leave 
to-night.  The  general  can't  go.  It  looks  like 
the  wound  from  that  infernel  duel  with  Dick- 
inson never  would  get  well.  But  I  like  to  be 
where  things  are  stirring,  and  I  am  going,  any- 
how. So  is  Joe  Daviess." 

"Yes,  I  know,"  said  Father  Orin,  sadly. 
"  Good  men  as  well  as  bad  must  go,  I  suppose, 
if  wars  must  be  fought." 

Tommy  Dye  looked  hard  at  him  for  a  moment, 
and  taking  off  his  hat,  rubbed  his  red  hair  the 
wrong  way  till  it  stood  on  end.  His  stare  gradu- 
ally turned  to  a  sort  of  sheepish  embarrassment 
before  he  spoke :  — 

" I'll  swear  some  of  the  babies  up  yonder 
ain't  much  bigger  than  my  fist!"  he  finally 
blurted  out.  "  I  took  the  Sisters  the  wad  I  won 
on  the  last  chicken  fight.  'Twasn't  much,  but 
there  ain't  any  use  taking  it  over  the  river  for 
the  red  devils  to  get,  if  they  get  me  —  and 
maybe  they  will  —  for  they  say  the  Prophet  is  a 
fighter.  If  the  Shawnees  don't  get  me,  I  can 
make  plenty  more,  so  it's  just  as  broad  as  it's 
long.  Anyhow,  the  Sisters  will  know  what  to 
do1  with  the  wad.  Say  !  I  wish  it  had  been  big- 
ger. They  took  me  into  the  room  where  the 
youngsters  stay,"  he  said  huskily,  rubbing  his 
head  harder  than  ever.  "They  said  —  them 
real  ladies  said  —  that  they  would  raise  up  the 
children  to  love  me,  and  pray  for  me.  When 
I  come  away  they  cried  —  them  real  ladies  — 


198  ROUND  ANVIL  ROCK 

about  me,  old  Tommy  Dye,  that  ain't  even  a 
heretic." 

"  You  are  kind,  my  friend ;  you  have  a  good 
heart,  and  you  are  generous,"  said  Father  Orin ; 
"but  I  wish  you  could  earn  your  money 
in  another  and  a  better  way.  Somehow  it 
grates  —  " 

"  Now,  look  here  !  "  cried  Tommy  Dye,  bristling 
at  once,  and  jamming  his  hat  back  on  his  red  head. 
He  was  always  cowed  at  the  very  sight  of  the 
gentle  Sisters  ;  but  as  man  to  man  —  even  though 
one  be  a  priest  —  he  was  up  again  at  once,  and 
quite  ready  to  hold  his  own.  "  Every  man  to 
his  own  notion,"  he  blustered  and  swaggered. 
"  I've  got  mine  and  you've  got  yours.  That's 
my  way  of  making  a  living,  and  I  dare  anybody 
to  say  it  ain't  honest.  Just  let  any  man  come  out 
flat  foot  and  tell  me  so,  face  to  face.  I  play  fair, 
and  I  bet  as  square  as  the  next  one.  I  take  my 
chances  the  same  as  the  other  man.  I  may  fight 
rough  and  tumble,  but  I  always  give  warning, 
and  I  never  gouge.  If  any  man's  got  anything 
to  say  against  my  honesty  or  fairness,  he's  only 
got  to  come  on  and  say  it." 

"  Come,  come ! "  said  Father  Orin,  too  sad  to 
be  amused  at  the  outburst,  as  he  might  have 
been  at  another  time.  "  I  beg  your  pardon  if  I 
have  offended  you.  I  had  no  thought  of  doing 
that.  But  I  wish  I  could  induce  you  to  think 
before  you  go  into  danger.  All  who  go  over 
yonder  will  not  come  back.  The  Shawnees 


A  SPIRITUAL   CENTAUR  199 

have  been  getting  ready  for  this  test  of  strength 
for  a  long  time.  There  is  great  danger.  I  beg 
you,  my  friend,  to  think.  Will  you  come  back 
with  me  to  the  chapel  ?  Just  for  a  little  while. 
There  is  no  one  there,  and  we  can  have  a  quiet 
talk." 

"Now,  what's  the  use  of  raking  all  that 
up  again?  We've  gone  over  all  that  —  and 
more  than  once  —  haven't  we?  You  thought 
one  way  and  I  another,  when  we  had  it  out 
the  other  day.  And  we've  both  got  the  same 
right  now  that  we  had  then,  to  think  as  we  like 
about  something  that  neither  of  us  knows  the 
first  blamed  thing  about,  haven't  we  ?  Well, 
I  think  just  the  same  now  that  I  did  then, 
and  I  reckon  you  do,  too.  I  haven't  seen  any 
reason  to  change,  have  you  ?  I  haven't  had  any 
fresh  news  from  up  yonder  "  —  pointing  heaven- 
ward—  "and  I  don't  suppose  you  have  either. 
So  you  see  one  of  us  is  bound  to  be  most  dam- 
nable mistaken  —  " 

"Shut  up,"  shouted  Father  Orin,  "you  un- 
mannerly rascal !  I  have  a  great  mind  to  jump 
down  and  pull  you  off  that  horse  and  give  you  a 
thrashing  to  teach  you  some  respect  for  religion, 
and  how  to  keep  a  civil  tongue  in  your  head. 
And  you  know  I  could  do  it,  too !  " 

They  looked  fiercely  at  each  other  for  a  mo- 
ment. Father  Orin  was  of  a  fiery  spirit,  and 
all  his  goodness  could  not  always  subdue  it. 
Tommy  Dye  was  a  ready  and  a  good  fighter, 


200  ROUND  ANVIL   ROCK 

but  he  paused  now,  and  silently  regarded  the 
priest.  He  looked  at  his  large,  sturdy  form,  at 
his  brawny  shoulders,  at  his  deep  chest  and  his 
long  arms,  remembering  suddenly  that  he  had 
seen  him  roll,  with  his  own  hands,  the  largest 
logs  in  the  little  chapel  which  no  one  else  could 
move. 

« I  reckon  you  could,"  Tommy  Dye  finally 
conceded  frankly. 

Father  Orin  burst  into  his  good-humored,  chuck- 
ling laugh,  and  Tommy  Dye  grinned,  but  their 
faces  sobered  instantly.  The  pity  of  it  touched 
and  moved  the  priest  through  his  sense  of  humor. 
The  gambler  was  softened  and  ashamed,  he 
hardly  knew  why.  With  one  simultaneous  im- 
pulse they  sent  their  horses  forward,  and  coming 
closer  together  clasped  hands. 

"  God  bless  and  guard  you,  my  friend,"  said 
Father  Orin.  "  You  can't  keep  me  from  saying 
that,  and  you  can't  help  my  praying  for  your 
safety,"  trying  to  smile. 

Tommy  Dye  found  nothing  more  to  say  and, 
laughing  very  loud,  he  put  spurs  to  his  horse  and 
galloped  away  through  the  darkening  forest. 
Father  Orin  and  Toby  stood  still  looking  after 
him  till  he  had  passed  out  of  sight.  And  then 
they  turned  to  go  on  their  way.  They  went 
along  in  silence  for  a  while,  and  at  last  Father 
Orin  began  the  conversation  with  a  heavy  sigh. 

"Well,  old  man,  there's  another  bad  failure 
that  we  have  got  to  set  down  in  our  book  —  you 


A  SPIRITUAL  CENTAUR  201 

and  me.  That  was  another  of  the  times  when 
we  didn't  know  what  to  do.  That  is  to  say,  I 
didn't.  I  suppose  you  did  —  you  always  do. 
You  never  make  mistakes  and  lose  your  temper 
like  I  do  nearly  every  day.  If  I  could  do  my 
part  as  well  as  you  do  yours,  we  wouldn't  fail  so 
often,  would  we,  old  man  ?  " 

Toby  quickly  turned  his  head  with  a  friendly, 
encouraging  whinny,  as  if  he  saw  his  co-worker's 
trouble  and  wanted  to  give  him  what  comfort 
he  could.  He  always  seemed  to  know  as  well 
when  his  friend  needed  encouragement  as  when 
he  required  to  be  kept  up  to  his  duty.  It  is  a 
wonderful,  wonderful  thing,  this  bond  between 
the  good  rider  and  the  good  horse !  It  is  so 
wonderfully  close  and  strong;  the  closest  and 
strongest  binding  the  human  being  to  his  brute 
brother.  It  is  infinitely  more  subtle  too,  than 
that  which  binds  any  other,  even  the  kindest 
master  to  the  most  faithful  dog ;  for  the 
man  and  his  horse  are  not  merely  master  and 
servant,  they  are  friends  and  even  equals  in  a 
way.  Neither  is  nearly  so  complete  or  powerful 
without  the  other  ;  but  together — with  body  and 
spirit  coming  in  living,  throbbing  contact  —  they 
form  the  mightiest  force  in  flesh  and  blood. 
Along  the  marvellous  electric  currents  of  life 
there  flashes  from  the  man  to  the  horse,  intelli- 
gence, feeling,  purpose,  even  thought  perhaps,  so 
that  to  the  true  horseman  the  centaur  can  never 
be  wholly  a  fabulous  creature. 


202  ROUND   ANVIL   ROCK 

One  of  the  greatest  things  about  this  wonder- 
ful bond  is  that  it  reaches  all  classes  of  riders  and 
horses.  Every  good  rider  and  every  good  horse 
may  rely  upon  it,  no  matter  which  of  the  many 
roads  through  life  they  may  travel  together :  all 
may  trustingly  rely  upon  it  till  one  or  both  shall 
have  breasted  "  Sleep's  dreamy  hill."  The  horse 
of  the  fox-hunter,  of  the  race-rider,  of  the 
mounted  soldier  —  every  one  of  these  noble 
beasts  has  the  fullest  understanding  of  his  rider's 
calling,  and  gives  it  his  completest  sympathy 
with  the  greatest  assistance  in  his  power.  Who 
that  has  known  the  horse  at  his  best  can  have 
failed  to  observe  and  recognize  and  be  moved  by 
this  fact  ?  We  have  all  seen  that  the  hunter 
hardly  needs  the  touch  of  his  rider's  knee  to  be 
off  like  the  wind  and  to  go  without  urging  from 
whip  or  spur  on  to  the  end  of  the  chase ;  never 
flagging,  no  matter  how  long  or  hard  it  may 
be ;  never  flinching  at  the  deepest  ditch  nor 
fouling  at  the  highest  fence ;  straining  every 
sinew  to  the  last,  for  his  rider's  defeat  is  his  own 
failure,  his  rider's  success  his  own  victory.  And 
we  have  all  seen  the  gallant  response  of  the  race- 
horse to  every  movement  of  his  rider's  body  —  a 
loyal  gallantry  that  ennobles  even  the  merely  mer- 
cenary ;  and  the  sight  of  these  two  —  now  one 
—  flying  toward  the  goal,  always  makes  the 
heart  beat  -faster  and  grow  warm  with  its  brave 
showing  of  this  magical  bond.  And  above  all, 
we  have  seen  the  trooper's  horse,  which  comes 


A  SPIRITUAL  CENTAUR  203 

closer  to  him  than  the  comrade  fighting  by  his 
side;  for  it  is  to  his  horse  more  than  to  his 
sword  that  the  soldier  must  owe  any  glory  that 
he  may  hope  to  win ;  and  when  strength  and 
courage  can  no  longer  serve,  it  is  his  horse  that 
often  gives  his  own  body  to  shield  his  rider 
from  death. 

And  if  all  this  be  true,  as  all  horsemen  know 
it  to  be  —  even  when  the  bond  is  strained  by 
cruelty  and  tainted  by  gain  and  stained  by  blood 
—  how  much  closer  and  stronger  must  have  been 
the  tie  between  this  priest  of  the  wilderness  and 
his  friend.  Toby's  loyalty  was  never  tried  like 
the  hunter's  by  seeing  some  dumb  brother  tor- 
tured and  slain  —  and  that  the  hunter  feels  the 
test  keenly,  no  one  can  doubt  after  seeing  the 
horror  in  his  eloquent  eyes.  Toby  never  had  to 
suffer  from  a  broken  heart  because  of  a  lost  race, 
or  because  he  shared  the  disgrace  of  his  rider's 
dishonesty,  and  many  noble  beasts  have  seemed 
to  suffer  something  strangely  like  this.  Toby 
never  had  to  lend  his  strength  to  the  taking  of 
human  life,  like  the  trooper's  horse ;  and  the  sol- 
dier's horse  does  not  need  the  power  of  speech  to 
tell  that  he  suffers  almost  as  much  in  the  spirit 
as  in  the  flesh  from  the  horrors  of  the  battle-field. 
Toby  and  his  friend  worked  together  solely  for 
peace,  kindness,  and  mercy,  for  the  relief  of  suffer- 
ing, and  the  saving  of  bodies  and  souls;  all  and 
always,  solely  for  the  good  of  the  world,  of  their 
fellow-creatures,  and  the  glory  of  God. 


204  ROUND  ANVIL  ROCK 

Think  of  what  it  was  that  Father  Orin  and  his 
partner  did  !  They  had  ecclesiastical  jurisdiction 
over  a  strip  of  country  which  was  more  than  fifty 
miles  wide  and  little  less  than  four  hundred  miles 
long.  This  lay  on  both  sides  of  the  Ohio  River, 
much  of  it  being  the  trackless  forest,  so  that 
Father  Orin  and  Toby  used  the  Shawnee  Cross- 
ing of tener  than  the  Shawnees  themselves.  They 
went  unharmed,  too,  where  no  other  pioneers  ever 
dared  go.  Some  mysterious  power  seemed  to 
protect  them,  as  the  rude  cross  drawn  on  a  cabin 
door  is  said  to  have  saved  the  inmates  from  the 
savages.  Father  Orin  and  Toby  thus  travelled 
about  two  hundred  miles  each  week  all  the  year 
through,  without  stopping  for  heat  or  cold. 
There  was  only  one  church  when  they  first 
began  their  labors,  and  this  was  the  little  log 
chapel ;  but  the  members  of  that  small  and 
widely  scattered  congregation  were  served  with 
the  offices  of  their  religion  by  the  priest  at  many 
private  houses  which  were  far  apart  and  called 
"stations."  There  were  about  thirty  of  these 
in  Kentucky,  several  in  Indiana  and  Illinois,  and 
one  or  two  in  Tennessee,  and  Father  Orin  and 
Toby  visited  them  all,  some  as  often  as  once  a 
month  and  the  others  as  often  as  possible.  To 
say  Mass  and  to  preach  constituted  but  a  part  of 
the  duty  which  called  them  from  place  to  place. 
They  went  wherever  the  priest  was  needed  to 
administer  baptism  to  infants  or  older  persons ; 
they  went  wherever  any  one,  old  or  young, 


A  SPIRITUAL  CENTAUR  205 

required  instruction  in  religion ;  they  went 
wherever  the  priest  was  needed  to  hear  confes- 
sion ;  they  went  far  and  wide,  so  that  the  priest 
might  solemnize  marriage  for  Protestants  as  well 
as  Catholics ;  they  visited  the  sick,  no  matter  how 
distant,  in  summer  and  in  winter  alike,  and  by 
day  or  by  night ;  they  went  at  any  summons  to 
bury  the  dead ;  and  they  tried  to  go  again,  so 
that  the  priest  might  do  what  he  could  to  com- 
fort the  living.  Yet  with  all  this  untiring  zeal 
for  the  soul's  welfare,  there  was  also  a  ceaseless 
care  for  the  body's  welfare,  and  a  divine  dis- 
regard of  any  narrow  line  of  faith ;  for  wherever 
Toby  carried  Father  Orin  that  good  man's  heart 
was  always  moved  by  compassion  for  any  dis- 
tress of  mind,  body,  or  estate,  always  overflow- 
ing with  a  deep,  wide  pity  infinitely  greater  and 
more  Christian  than  any  creed. 

It  is  not  strange,  then,  that  the  good  man  and 
the  good  horse  had  become  almost  one  in  mind 
and  body,  and  that  they  were  quite  one  in  spirit. 
It  is  not  in  the  least  strange,  certainly,  that  Toby 
came  to  know  the  nature  of  their  errand 
almost  as  well  and  nearly  as  quickly  as  Father 
Orin  himself.  He  easily  knew  a  sick  call  by  the 
haste  with  which  they  set  out,  and  he  knew  its 
urgency  by  their  going  with  the  messenger.  He 
seemed  to  be  able  to  tell  unerringly  when  they 
were  bearing  the  Viaticum,  and  it  was  plain 
that  he  felt  the  responsibility  thus  resting  upon 
his  speed  and  sureness  of  foot.  Then  it  was 


206  ROUND   ANVIL   ROCK 

that  he  would  go  like  the  wind,  through  utter 
darkness,  through  storm  and  flood  and  over  an 
icy  earth,  without  a  pause  or  a  misstep.  Many 
a  time,  after  such  a  struggle  as  this,  has  Toby 
turned  his  head,  as  if  trying  to  see  why  Father 
Orin  was  slow  in  doing  his  part  when  the  rain, 
freezing  as  it  fell,  had  frozen  the  priest's  poor 
overcoat  to  the  saddle,  and  his  ragged  leggins 
were  heavy  and  clumsy  with  icicles.  But  the 
apologetic  tone  in  'which  Father  Orin  always 
said,  "  Well,  here  we  are,  old  man,"  and  the 
explanatory  pat  that  he  always  gave  Toby's  neck, 
after  going  through  the  respectful  form  of  hitch- 
ing him,  never  failed  to  make  this  right.  And 
when  the  priest  came  out  of  the  house,  he  always 
had  something  in  his  pocket  for  Toby,  if  any  one 
had  remembered  to  give  himself  anything  to  eat. 
But  their  errands  were  not  all  so  sad  as  this. 
Sometimes  there  were  weddings  to  attend,  and 
Toby  entered  into  the  happy  spirit  of  that  lively 
business  quite  as  heartily  as  Father  Orin.  The 
only  thing  that  Toby  was  strict  about  then,  was 
that  his  friend  should  not  forget  to  wear  his  best 
clothes,  which  he  was  too  apt  to  do,  even  if  he 
had  not  given  them  away,  and  that  there  should 
not  be  a  speck  of  mud  on  his  own  coat,  which 
had  to  be  neglected  in  more  urgent  cases. 
Father  Orin  used  to  declare  that  Toby  eyed  him 
from  top  to  toe  when  he  knew  they  were  going 
to  a  wedding ;  and  that  if  there  were  a  spot  on 
his  cassock,  or  a  hole  in  it,  Toby's  eye  never  failed 


A   SPIRITUAL   CENTAUR  207 

to  find  it.  At  such  leisurely  times  he  was  indeed 
so  exacting  as  to  his  own  proper  appearance  that 
he  would  not  budge  until  the  last  "  witch's  stir- 
rup "  had  been  combed  out  of  his  mane  and  tail. 
He  was  only  a  degree  less  particular  when  he 
knew  they  were  going  to  the  christening  of 
an  infant.  It  was  then  plainly  Toby's  opinion 
that,  while  they  might  not  take  quite  so  much 
time  to  christen  as  to  marry,  there  was  still  no 
need  to  rush  off  with  the  priest's  vestments  out 
of  order  and  his  own  fetlocks  weighted  with 
mire.  The  two  had  many  friendly  contests  on 
these  occasions,  but  Toby's  will  was  the  stronger, 
and  his  temper  was  not  quite  so  mild ;  and  as  it 
is  always  the  less  amiable  who  wins,  it  was  com- 
monly he  who  won,  in  the  long  run. 

Whenever  the  way  before  them  was  not  quite 
clear,  Father  Orin  would  let  Toby  lead,  and  only 
once  in  all  their  long  pilgrimage  together  did 
he  ever  fail  to  lead  aright.  It  was  on  a  wild 
winter's  night,  and  neither  could  see  either  heaven 
or  earth;  yet  on  against  the  bitter  wind  went 
the  priest  and  his  horse,  Toby  stretching  his  full- 
est length  at  the  top  of  his  speed,  and  Father 
Orin  bending  low  to  escape  the  boughs  of  unseen 
trees;  and  thus  they  sped  through  the  stormy 
blackness.  Faster  still  they  went,  up  hill  and 
down  hill,  leaping  fallen  trees,  flying  across  the 
hollows  made  by  the  uptorn  roots,  swimming 
swollen  streams,  while  the  priest  knelt  on  the 
saddle,  holding  the  Viaticum  high  above  the  rush- 


208  ROUND  ANVIL  BOOK 

ing  water  which  dashed  over  his  knees.  At  last 
they  stopped,  utterly  exhausted,  only  to  find 
that  they  were  lost  in  the  icy,  dark  wilderness ; 
and  they  went  on  groping  blindly  for  any  kind  of 
shelter  under  which  to  wait  for  the  first  glimmer 
of  dawn.  They  finally  came  upon  a  ruined 
cabin,  and  although  the  whole  front  of  it  was 
gone,  some  of  the  roof  and  a  part  of  the  walls 
were  left,  and  Father  Orin  led  Toby  into  the 
driest  corner.  Taking  off  the  wet  saddle  and 
the  soaked,  half-frozen  blanket,  he  laid  them  on 
the  ground.  He  patted  Toby  as  he  did  this, 
and  Toby's  responsive  whinny  said  it  was  all 
right,  just  as  plain  as  if  he  had  been  able  to  talk. 
But  Father  Orin  was  not  quite  satisfied,  and 
moving  a  little  farther  over  in  the  corner,  where 
it  was  so  dark  that  even  Toby  could  not  see 
what  he  was  doing,  he  pulled  off  his  poor  old 
overcoat,  from  which  the  water  was  dripping,  but 
which  was  still  warm  and  partly  dry  on  the  in- 
side. Stealing  back  to  Toby,  he  laid  the  coat  over 
his  shivering  shoulders,  chuckling  to  think  that 
Toby  would  never  know  that  it  was  not  the  sad- 
dle-blanket. Feeling  now  that  he  had  done  his 
best  for  his  friend,  he  buttoned  his  cassock  closer 
and  laid  down  on  the  freezing  ground,  with  the 
frozen  saddle  for  a  pillow,  and  tried  to  get  what 
rest  and  sleep  he  could. 

At  times  like  this  —  and  they  were  not  a  few 
—  it  was  hard  for  Father  Orin  to  believe  that  Toby 
had  no  soul.  It  was  indeed  so  hard  now  and  then, 


A  SPIRITUAL  CENTAUR  209 

as  on  that  night,  that  he  could  not  believe  it ; 
that  he  could  not  think  there  would  be  no  re- 
ward of  any  kind  for  such  service  as  Toby  was 
giving  the  Faith.  It  was  service  as  faithful  as 
his  own ;  he  could  not  have  given  his  without 
Toby's  help.  Looking  upward  toward  his  own  re- 
ward, even  this  bitter,  black  winter's  night  became 
as  nothing  ;  but  Toby — what  was  there  for  Toby? 
He  did  not  remember  that  he  often  gave  Toby 
the  food  which  he  needed  himself,  as  he  had  just 
given  him  the  warmth  from  his  own  shivering 
body.  He  thought  only  of  the  things  that  Toby 
did  for  him  and  for  the  Faith.  And  so  thinking, 
very  strange  fancies  about  Toby  would  now  and 
then  come  to  him  with  the  profoundest  reverence. 
And  on  that  dreary  night,  when  their  dauntless 
spirits  seemed  to  touch,  while  their  exhausted 
bodies  thus  dozed  side  by  side,  a  pleasant  vision 
vaguely  blended  Father  Grin's  half-conscious 
dreams  with  his  perplexed  waking  thoughts. 

Of  a  sudden,  all  was  bright  and  warm,  and  he 
felt  himself  going  up,  up,  up,  through  flawless  blue 
space.  He  thought  he  had  no  wings,  but  he 
did  not  miss  them,  nor  even  think  about  them ; 
he  was  missing  and  thinking  about  Toby,  and 
wondering,  where  he  was,  and  what  he  was  doing. 
But  ah  !  there  he  was  all  ready  and  waiting 
close  to  the  gate  of  paradise.  Yes,  there  was  Toby 
after  all !  There  he  was,  standing  by  a  celestial 
manger  overflowing  with  ambrosia,  already 
blanketed  with  softest  zephyrs,  saddled  with  shin- 


210  ROUND  ANVIL   ROCK 

ing  clouds,  and  bitted  with  sunbeams  —  quite 
ready  and  only  waiting  for  the  touch  of  his 
friend's  hand  on  the  bridle  —  to  canter  up  the 
radiant  highway  walled  with  jasper  and  paved 
with  stars. 


XV 

THE    WEB    THAT    SEEMED    TO    BE   WOVEN 

THE  fancy  pleased  Father  Orin,  and  he  spoke 
jestingly  to  Toby  about  it,  reminding  him,  how- 
ever, seriously  enough,  that  it  was  only  in  visions 
that  there  could  be  any  such  direct  passing  from 
earth  to  heaven. 

"  For  you  see,  old  man,  there's  a  place  on  the 
way  where  most  of  us  must  tarry  a  while. 
Maybe  you  might  be  able  to  pass  by  and  go 
straight  on.  I  am  afraid  there  wouldn't  be 
much  of  a  chance  for  me." 

But  they  were  both  still  far  from  their  long, 
hard  journey's  end  on  that  gloomy  November  even- 
ing. They  were  merely  turning  a  little  aside  from 
their  usual  broad  path  for  a  still  wider  service 
to  humanity.  They  had  not  seen  the  doctor  that 
day,  and  there  was  always  reason  to  fear  that  he 
might  at  any  moment  fall  a  victim  to  the  epi- 
demic which  he  was  ceaselessly  fighting,  so  that 
they  were  now  going  in  some  anxiety  to  see 
what  had  kept  him  away  from  the  places  in 
which  they  were  used  to  seeing  him.  They 
were  both  very  tired,  yet  Toby,  nevertheless, 
quickened  his  weary  pace  at  a  gentle  hint  from 

211 


212  ROUND   ANVIL  ROCK 

Father  Orin,  and  they  got  to  the  doctor's  house 
just  as  the  sun  went  down  behind  the  cotton- 
woods  on  the  other  shore. 

The  cabin  stood  near  the  river  bank.  It  was 
a  single  room  of  logs,  rough  without  and  bare 
within.  The  doctor  was  not  very  poor,  as  pov- 
erty and  riches  were  considered  in  the  wilderness, 
having  inherited  a  modest  fortune.  But  he  was 
generous  and  charitable,  and  had  gone  from  Vir- 
ginia into  Kentucky  with  an  earnest  wish  to 
serve  his  kind.  And  then  his  acquaintance  with 
Father  Orin  had  brought  him  in  close  contact  with 
want  as  well  as  suffering,  and  would  have  given 
him  good  uses  for  larger  means  than  his  own. 
Yet  rude  and  empty  as  the  cabin  was,  there  were 
traces  of  refinement  here  and  there,  as  there  al- 
ways must  be  wherever  true  refinement  dwells. 
A  miniature  of  his  mother,  whom  he  could  not 
remember,  hung  against  the  logs  at  the  head  of  his 
bed.  There  were  a  few  good  books  on  a  rough 
shelf,  and  a  spray  of  autumn  leaves  lay  on  the 
table.  The  beauty  of  the  leaves  had  drawn  him 
to  break  the  spray  from  the  bough  and  bring  it 
home.  But  he  had  forgotten  it  as  soon  as  he  had 
laid  it  down  on  the  table,  and  the  leaves  were 
withering  as  he  sat  beside  them  with  his  head 
bowed  upon  his  hands. 

The  man  of  conscience,  who  cares  for  the 
bodies  of  his  kind,  bears  almost  as  heavy  a  bur- 
den as  he  who  cares  for  their  souls.  He  must 
everywhere,  and  unrestingly,  fight  ignorance  and 


THE  WEB  THAT  SEEMED  TO  BE  WOVEN     213 

prejudice  with  one  hand,  while  he  strives  to  heal 
with  the  other,  and  this  double  strife  was  fiercer 
in  the  wilderness,  just  at  that  time,  than  almost 
anywhere  else  within  the  furthest  reach  of  science. 
On  first  coming  he  had  found  more  people  being 
killed  by  calomel  and  jalap  than  by  the  plague. 
At  every  turn  he  encountered  this  bane  of  the 
country  which  was  called  callomy- jallopy,  and  at 
that  moment  he  was  utterly  worn  out,  body  and 
soul,  by  a  struggle  to  save  the  life  of  a  man  who 
had  ignorantly  poisoned  himself  by  drinking  some 
acid  after  taking  the  dose.  This  was  not  his  first 
experience  of  the  kind  ;  but  he  had  met  the  other 
trials  with  the  high  courage  of  a  light  heart  and 
a  free  mind.  It  was  only  within  the  last  two 
days  that  he  had  been  weighed  down  by  dis- 
couragement, by  heaviness  of  heart,  and  depres- 
sion of  mind.  He  was  so  weary  and  absorbed 
now  in  disheartened  thought,  that  he  did  not 
hear  Toby's  approach,  and  he  was  startled  when 
Father  Orin  appeared  in  the  open  door.  He 
greeted  him  with  a  warmly  outstretched  hand, 
but  did  not  say  that  he  was  glad  to  see  him  ;  they 
were  too  good  friends  for  empty  phrases,  such 
good  friends  that  they  sat  down  silently,  neither 
needing  a  word  to  know  the  other's  sadness.  It 
was  the  priest  who  finally  broke  the  silence. 

"  You  are  troubled,  my  son,"  he  said,  quietly 
and  gently.  "I  see  there  is  something  besides 
the  trouble  which  touches  us  all  —  this  terror  of 
what  is  coming  on  the  other  side  of  the  river. 


214  ROUND  ANVIL  ROCK 

I  see  that  there  is  something  else  —  some  closer 
trouble  of  your  own.  If  you  wish  to  tell  me 
about  it,  I  will  do  what  I  can  to  help  you ;  but 
you  know  this  without  being  told." 

He  had  spoken  at  the  right  moment,  for  there 
are  moments  in  the  lives  of  the  most  reserved 
and  self-reliant  when  the  heart  must  speak  to 
ease  the  mind.  Paul  Colbert  was  a  Protestant, 
and  so  firm  and  strong  in  his  faith  that  he  was 
ready  at  all  times  to  defend  it,  to  fight  for  it ; 
yet  this  moment,  which  has  nothing  to  do  with 
any  creed,  had  come  to  him,  and  he  spoke  as 
one  man  speaks  to  another  whom  he  trusts  and 
knows  to  be  his  friend.  He  told  what  he  was 
suffering,  and  the  cause  of  his  wretchedness.  He 
spoke  of  his  first  meeting  with  Ruth,  and  of  the 
love  for  her  that  had  leapt  up  in  his  heart  at  the 
first  glimpse  of  her  face,  before  he  had  heard  her 
voice,  before  he  knew  her  name.  He  said  how 
happy  he  was  when  chance  put  her  in  his  arms 
through  that  wild  night's  ride.  He  described 
his  visit  to  her  on  the  next  day,  and  said  how 
far  he  was  from  suspecting  that  William  Pressley 
was  more  than  a  member  of  the  same  family. 
He  went  on  to  speak  of  the  other  visits  which 
he  had  paid  to  Ruth,  telling  how  fast  his  love 
had  grown  with  every  meeting.  He  ended  with 
the  revelation  at  the  dance  in  the  woods. 

"But  it  wouldn't  have  made  any  difference 
had  I  known  sooner.  It  couldn't  have  made 
any  difference  in  my  loving  her,"  he  said.  "  I 


THE  WEB  THAT  SEEMED  TO  BE  WOVEN     215 

must  have  loved  her  just  the  same  no  matter 
when  or  how  we  might  have  met.  Nothing 
ever  could  have  altered 'that.  I  am  afraid  that  I 
couldn't  have  helped  loving  her  had  she  been  an- 
other man's  wife.  I  am  keeping  nothing  back, 
you  see,  Father.  I  am  telling  you  the  whole 
truth.  But  perhaps  it  wouldn't  have  been  quite 
so  hard  to  bear,  had  I  known  at  the  very  first. 
It  can  hardly  be  so  hard  to  give  up  happiness  when 
we  have  never  dared  long  for  it.  And  I  knew 
no  reason  why  I  might  not  try  to  make  her  love 
me.  As  it  is,  from  this  time  on,  every  thought 
of  her  must  be  like  constantly  trying  to  kill 
some  suffering  thing  that  can  never  die ! " 

He  dropped  his  head  on  his  arm  which  lay  on 
the  table.  The  priest  gently  laid  his  hand  on 
the  thick,  brown  hair. 

"  My  son,"  he  murmured. 

"If  the  man  that  she  is  to  marry  were  only 
different,"  Paul  groaned.  "If  he  were  only 
more  worthy,  if  I  could  only  think  that  she 
would  be  happy." 

He  did  not  know  that  he  was  merely  saying 
what  every  unfortunate  lover  has  thought  since 
love  and  the  world  began;  and  it  was  a  sad 
smile  that  touched  the  sympathy  of  Father 
Grin's  face. 

«  William  Pressley  is  not  a  bad  young  fellow," 
the  priest  said.  "  He  means  well.  He  lives 
uprightly  according  to  his  dull,  narrow  ideas  of 
right.  And  none  of  us  can  do  any  better  than  to 


216  ROUND   ANVIL   ROCK 

live  up  to  our  own  ideals.  It's  a  good  deal  more 
than  most  of  us  do.  I  am  afraid  he  is  selfish," 
with  the  hesitation  which  he  always  felt  in  pro- 
nouncing judgment  upon  any  one ;  "  but  then 
most  of  us  men  are,  and  maybe  he  will  not  be 
selfish  toward  her,  for  he  must  be  fond  of  her. 
Everybody  loves  the  child." 

"  But  about  her  —  is  she  fond  of  him  ?  How 
can  she  be  ?  " 

«  I  can't  answer  for  that.  There's  no  telling 
about  a  girl's  fancy ;  in  fact,  I  have  never  given 
the  engagement  a  thought.  It  was  all  settled  ; 
it  seemed  a  good,  suitable  arrangement  —  " 

"  Arrangement !  "  groaned  Paul. 

Father  Orin  shook  his  head.  "  It  was  most 
likely  Philip  Alston  who  brought  it  about.  He 
doubtless  thought  it  a  wise  choice  for  both  the 
young  people.  He  certainly  never  would  have 
consented  if  he  had  not  believed  it  to  be  for 
Ruth's  happiness  —  that  always  comes  first  with 
him  in  everything." 

Paul  Colbert  sat  up  suddenly,  throwing  back 
his  hair,  and  looked  at  the  priest  with  a  clear- 
ing gaze.  All  the  questions  which  he  had  been 
wishing  to  ask  now  rushed  to  his  lips.  What 
was  Ruth's  relation  to  Philip  Alston?  What 
right  had  he  to  choose  her  husband  ?  What  was 
his  influence  over  William  Pressley  ?  What  was 
his  hold  upon  Judge  Knox  ?  What  was  this 
power  that  he  wielded  over  the  whole  family  of 
Cedar  House  ? 


"He  is  no  relation  to  her,  is  he?  He  isn't 
even  her  guardian.  And  William  Pressley  is 
an  honest  man,  isn't  he,  even  though  such  a 
solemn,  pompous  prig?  He  can  hardly  be  a 
confederate  of  counterfeiters,  forgers,  robbers, 
and  murderers.  And  a  single  look  at  the 
judge's  face  shows  him  to  be  the  most  upright 
of  men ;  his  open,  unswerving  honesty  of  thought 
and  deed,  cannot  be  doubted.  How  is  it,  then, 
that  Philip  Alston  can  move  all  these  honor- 
able and  intelligent  people  to  suit  his  villanous 
purposes,  as  if  they  were  pawns  in  a  game  of 
chess  ?  " 

"Ah,  you  don't  know  much  about  Philip 
Alston.  You  have  met  him  only  once  —  yet  that 
must  have  made  you  feel  the  wonderful  charm 
of  the  man,  his  singular  power.  You  have  seen 
how  he  looks,"  laughing  at  some  recollection. 
"  Sometimes  when  he  has  talked  to  me,  looking 
me  straight  in  the  face  with  his  clear,  soft, 
gentle,  blue  eyes,  I  have  doubted  everything  that 
I  ever  had  heard  against  him.  Things  that  I 
know  to  a  moral  certainty  to  be  true  seemed 
a  monstrous  slander.  You  must  have  felt  some- 
thing of  this,  though  you  have  seen  him  but  once ; 
and  the  more  frequently  you  meet  him  the  more 
you  will  feel  it.  The  power  of  the  man  is  past 
words  and  past  understanding.  Did  you  know 
that  he  once  held  a  high  office  under  Spain  ?  Oh, 
yes,  for  years  he  controlled  the  arrogant,  treacher- 
ous, local  government  of  Spain  as  absolutely 


218  KOUND   ANVIL  KOCK 

as  he  controls  the  simple  family  of  Cedar 
House.  He  was  living  in  Natchez  then,  and 
was  apparently  a  very  devout  Catholic,  too, 
about  this  time.  But  the  church  which  he  at- 
tended was  mysteriously  robbed ;  its  altar  was 
stripped  of  everything  precious,  —  gold,  jewels, 
paintings,  -. —  w7hen  none  but  himself  had  had  ac- 
cess to  the  church  unobserved.  That  is  the  story. 
I  do  not  vouch  for  its  truth.  There  was  no 
evidence  against  him  —  only  suspicions  in  this 
as  in  everything  else.  It  was  shortly  afterward 
that  he  suddenly  appeared  in  this  country  a 
stanch  Protestant ;  and  then  almost  imme- 
diately the  present  reign  of  crime  began.  Yet 
he  has  never  been  seen  in  the  company  of  any 
known  law-breakers.  Many  mysterious  visitors 
are  said  to  come  to  his  house  over  the  Wilderness 
Road,  and  to  go  as  mysteriously  as  they  come. 
But  no  one  claims  to  know  who  or  what  they 
are,  where  they  come  from,  or  where  they  go. 
It  is  said  that  these  men  who  carry  out  his 
orders  hardly  know  him  by  sight,  that  he  sees 
only  the  leaders,  and  that  they  never  dare  go  to 
his  house  unless  they  are  sent  for.  It  is  be- 
lieved that  he  rarely  goes  into  detail,  and  does 
not  wish  to  know  what  they  do  in  carrying  out 
his  wishes.  It  is  said  that  he  is  sickened  by  the 
slightest  mention  of  bloodshed  or  cruelty,  like  any 
delicate,  sensitive  woman,  but  is  perfectly  indif- 
ferent to  all  sorts  of  atrocity  that  go  on  out  of 
his  sight  and  knowledge.  There  is,  indeed,  a 


THE  WEB  THAT  SEEMED  TO  BE  WOVEN     219 

general  opinion  that  he  actually  does  not  know 
half  of  the  time  what  his  tools  are  guilty  of ; 
that  he  purposely  avoids  knowing.  I  have 
heard  it  said  that  the  boldest  of  the  band  would 
no  more  venture  to  tell  him  of  the  crimes  they 
commit  while  executing  orders,  than  he  would 
put  his  head  in  a  lion's  mouth.  It  is  understood 
that  Alston  simply  points  to  a  thing  when  he 
wants  it  done,  leaving  all  shocking  details  to  his 
tools.  But  this  is  mere  hearsay.  No  one  really 
knows  anything  about  him  ;  that  is  to  say,  no  one 
outside  his  band  —  if  he  actually  has  one.  It  is 
very  generally  believed,  however,  that  he  has  only 
to  blow  a  single  blast  on  a  horn  at  any  hour  of 
the  day  or  night,  and  that  from  fifty  to  a  hundred 
armed  men  will  instantly  appear,  as  if  they  had 
sprung  out  of  the  earth.  It  is  also  generally  be- 
lieved that  he  makes  all  the  fine  counterfeit 
money  with  which  this  country  is  flooded,  and 
that  he  does  the  work  with  his  own  delicate,  white 
hands.  Yet  not  a  dollar  has  ever  been  traced  to 
him,  although  its  regular  sale  goes  steadily  on  at 
a  fixed  rate  of  sixteen  bad  dollars  for  one  good 
dollar.  It  is  generally  believed,  too,  that  he 
keeps  his  money,  both  the  good  and  the  bad, 
buried  somewhere  in  the  forest  near  his  house, 
presumably  for  the  double  purpose  of  guarding 
against  robbery  by  his  tools  and  against  sur- 
prise by  the  officers  of  the  law.  This,  of  course, 
is  also  mere  speculation ;  nobody  really  knows 
anything  about  what  he  does.  I  only  know 


220  ROUND  ANVIL   ROCK 

that  his  house  is  a  bare  log  hut,  which  is  singu- 
lar enough,  seeing  what  a  fine  gentleman  he  is, 
and  what  luxury  he  has  surrounded  the  girl 
with.  But  I  know  that  to  be  true,  because 
accident  once  took  me  to  his  house,  and 
greater  courtesy  I  never  found  anywhere, 
though  I  was  not  invited  to  come  again. 
It  is  known  that  he  owns  a  fleet  of  flat- 
boats,  and  one  of  them  is  usually  seen  waiting 
near  Duff's  Fort  when  horses  are  stolen,  and 
it  is  always  gone  before  the  dawn  of  the  next 
day ;  but  there  is  no  proof  of  this,  either.  Boats 
belonging  to  other  people  have  a  hard  time  get- 
ting past  Duff's  Fort.  More  often  than  not, 
they  are  never  seen  or  heard  of  after  reaching 
that  fatal  point,  and  the  passengers  vanish  off 
the  face  of  the  earth.  That  is  what  happened 
to  Ruth's  parents,  as  nearly  as  any  one  but 
Alston  knows.  Most  likely  he  knows  nothing 
more." 

"And  knowing  this,  she  loves  him,  and  the 
judge  and  his  nephew  trust  him  ?  " 

"The  child  doesn't  know  anything  about  it. 
Who  would  tell  her?  He  is  like  her  father  — 
he  could  not  have  been  more  tender  of  her 
had  she  been  his  own  child.  There  is  nothing 
strange  in  her  loving  him ;  it  would  be  far  more 
strange  if  she  did  not.  She  is  a  gentle,  loving 
nature,  and  he  has  done  everything  to  win  her 
love,  and  you  know  what  he  is." 

"How  can  any  creature  in  human  form  be  so 


THE  WEB  THAT  SEEMED   TO  BE  WOVEN    221 

utterly  unnatural  —  so  wholly  a  monster  ?  How 
can  he  endure  to  see  her,  much  less  profess  fond- 
ness for  her,  knowing  what  he  has  done  ?  " 

« I  have  thought  a  good  deal  about  that,  and  I 
have  never  been  able  to  make  up  my  mind.  You 
see  we  don't  know  that  he  has  done  anything 
wrong.  Yet  it  may  be  an  unconscious  expia- 
tion. Who  knows?  The  human  heart  is  a 
mysterious  thing.  But  it  is  most  likely  that  he 
simply  began  to  love  her  when  she  was  a  baby, 
just  because  she  was  so  lovely  that  he  couldn't 
help  it.  She  won  all  hearts  in  her  cradle  —  the 
little  witch.  I  remember  very  well  how  she  used 
to  keep  me  from  my  work,  by  curling  her  rose 
leaf  of  a  hand  around  one  of  my  rough  fingers, 
before  she  could  talk." 

"  But  why  —  loving  her  —  should  he  wish  to 
marry  her  against  her  will  ?  " 

"  We  do  not  know  that  it  is  against  her  will. 
That  is  to  say,  I  know  nothing  of  the  kind,  and  I 
have  no  reason  even  to  think  it." 

There  was  a  silence  after  this.  Paul  Colbert 
was  suddenly  realizing  that  he  also  had  no  reason 
to  think  her  unwilling ;  but  this  did  not  comfort 
him  or  change  his  feeling.  It  is  the  delight  and 
misery  of  love  never  to  have  anything  to  do  with 
reason. 

«It  is  not  likely  that  Alston  would  approve 
anything  that  he  did  not  believe  was  for  her 
happiness,"  Father  Orin  went  on  after  a  brief 
silence.  « But  there  may  have  been  other  in- 


222  ROUND   ANVIL   ROCK 

ducements.  With  the  judge's  nephew  under  his 
thumb,  he  need  not  have  much  fear  of  the  law 
or  the  court.  That  was  the  reason  most  generally 
assigned  for  his  patronage  of  William  Pressley  in 
the  first  place,  before  there  was  any  engagement 
between  the  young  man  and  Ruth.  But  that 
will,  as  a  matter  of  course,  bind  him  closer  to 
Alston's  interests,  through  her  fondness  for  him. 
And  on  yesterday  I  heard  of  a  scheme  to  put 
Pressley  in  Joe  Daviess'  place.  It  has  been  kept 
quiet,  but  is  said  to  be  well  on  foot,  and  I  should 
not  be  surprised  if  it  were  true.  Pressley  is  po- 
litically ambitious  above  anything,  so  that  there 
are  several  reasons  why  he  and  Alston  should  hold 
together.  In  the  event  of  Pressley's  securing  the 
appointment,  there  would  not  be  much  danger 
of  the  law's  interference  with  any  unlawful 
plans  that  Alston  might  have.  Mind  you,  I 
don't  say  that  he  has  any.  I  don't  know  that 
he  has,  and  I  am  not  even  sure  that  I  am  right 
in  telling  you  these  things,  which  are  merely 
rumor,  after  all.  Well,  at  all  events  he  has  his 
good  points.  He  is  very  generous,  and  always 
ready,  open-handed,  to  help  any  good  work  of 
the  Sisters.  I  have  had  scruples  about  letting 
them  accept  his  gifts,  but  I  have  hesitated  to 
speak  for  they  know  nothing  against  him,  and 
there  is  always  danger  of  doing  injustice.  We 
have  no  right  to  accuse  anyone  of  anything  that 
we  cannot  prove." 

Paul  was  not  listening  to  his  friend's  scruples. 


THE  WEB  THAT  SEEMED  TO  BE  WOVEN    223 

He  had  risen  from  his  chair,  and  was  walking  up 
and  down  the  room.  Presently  he  paused  and 
faced  the  priest  with  the  air  of  a  man  who  sees 
his  way  and  has  made  up  his  mind.  His  voice 
rang  clear  with  decision. 

"Then  this  is  the  net  that  has  been  woven 
about  her  —  the  innocent,  helpless  little  thing ! 
She  is  to  be  made  a  victim  through  her  tender- 
est  and  most  natural  affections.  It's  like  seeth- 
ing a  kid  in  its  mother's  milk.  And  how  utterly 
unprotected  she  is  !  Think  of  her  father !  Look 
at  the  judge  —  for  all  his  kindness!  What  is 
there  to  expect  from  him  ?  And  Philip  Alston, 
who  pretends  to  love  her  ?  He  is  using  her  affec- 
tion for  himself  to  bring  about  this  marriage,  so 
that  she  may  bind  this  dull  tool  —  this  pompous 
fool,  Pressley  —  to  the  service  of  an  organized 
band  of  robbers  and  assassins." 

"You  are  rushing  to  conclusions,  my  son. 
There  is  no  reason,  is  there,  to  think  that  she 
doesn't  love  the  young  man?  We  haven't  the 
slightest  right  to  assume  that.  I  certainly  have 
not  —  have  you  ?  " 

Father  Orin  spoke  with  a  keen  look  at  the  pale, 
agitated  young  face,  which  flushed  painfully.  See- 
ing this  the  priest  went  on  more  gently  without 
waiting  for  any  reply. 

"  And  I  must  again  remind  you  that  we  do  not 
know  that  Philip  Alston  has  anything  to  do  with 
the  lawlessness  of  the  country,  —  we  merely  sus- 
pect him.  Suspicion  and  evidence  are  different 


224  ROUND  ANVIL  ROCK 

things ;  so  widely  different,  indeed,  that  I  may 
have  done  grave  wrong  in  even  mentioning  the 
first  to  you." 

"  Then  we  must  try  to  find  out  the  truth  —  try 
to  lay  our  hand  on  the  evidence  which  will  prove 
Alston's  innocence  or  his  guilt.  Doing  that  can- 
not harm  her  —  if  she  is  happy  in  this  engage- 
ment," with  a  strong  effort,  "and  it  may  help 
her  —  if  she  is  not." 

The  priest  shook  his  head.  "  You  forget  that 
many  able  men  have  already  tried  hard  to  do  what 
you  suggest,  and  that  every  attempt  has  failed." 

"  That  hasn't  a  straw's  weight  with  me.  I 
shall  not  fail,  because  I  am  going  to  try  harder 
than  any  one  else  ever  can  have  tried,"  with  the 
confidence  and  courage  that  belong  to  love.  "  I 
think  I  can  do  something  to  aid  the  officers 
in  gathering  evidence.  My  work,  carrying  me 
over  the  whole  region  where  these  villains  do 
theirs,  gives  me  opportunities  to  know  what 
is  going  on.  I  shall  speak  to  the  attorney-gen- 
eral early  to-morrow  morning.  Every  honest 
man  owes  it  to  the  state  to  give  such  help  as 
he  can  in  this  extremity." 

"  Take  care,"  said  Father  Orin,  gently.  "  I  am 
doubting  more  and  more  the  wisdom  and  right 
of  having  told  you  these  stories  about  Philip 
Alston.  Remember,  they  are  merely  rumors, 
widespread  and  generally  believed,  it  is  true,  yet 
still  wholly  unsupported  by  evidence.  We  must 
be  careful.  There  is  a  bare  possibility  that  we  may 


THE  WEB  THAT  SEEMED  TO  BE  WOVEN     225 

be  wrong,  that  we  may  be  doing  a  terrible  injustice 
to  an  innocent  man.  I  do  not  believe  that  any- 
thing can  be  long  believed  by  a  great  many  honest 
people  unless  there  is  some  truth  underneath  for 
it  to  rest  upon ;  and  this  about  Philip  Alston  has 
been  believed  by  the  best  men  of  this  country 
for  a  good  many  years.  But  the  fact  that  it 
hasn't  been  proven  remains,  nevertheless.  There 
has  never  been  a  shadow  of  real  evidence,  and 
we,  as  fair-minded  men,  are  bound  to  remember 
that."  He  hesitated  for  a  moment,  and  looked 
at  the  young  doctor  as  if  uncertain  whether  to 
say  something  else  that  was  in  his  kind,  wise 
thoughts.  "  There  is  another  thing  that  you  would 
do  well  to  bear  in  mind,  my  son.  Any  one  bring- 
ing any  charges,  supported  or  unsupported, 
against  Philip  Alston,  will  break  that  little  girl's 
heart.  She  would  never  credit  the  strongest 
proof.  A  woman  like  that,  —  a  tender,  soft, 
clinging,  unreasoning  little  thing,  —  who  is  all 
affection  and  trust,  could  not  be  reached  by  testi- 
mony that  would  convince  any  jury.  That  is 
one  of  the  merciful  dispensations ;  that  is  one  of 
the  reasons  why  men  get  so  much  more  mercy 
here  below  than  they  deserve.  This  gentle  girl 
not  only  would  never  believe,  but  she  would  never, 
never  forgive  you  for  breathing  a  word  against 
Philip  Alston.  That  is  the  way  with  women 
of  her  kind.  And  you  would  not  wish  to  hurt 
her,  even  though  —  " 
"No!  No  —  no!" 


226  ROUND   ANVIL   EOCK 

"  And  then  you  must  not  forget  that  the  young 
man  whom  she  is  to  marry  is  also  more  or  less 
involved.  And  you  must  remember  that  he  is 
essentially  an  upright,  well-meaning,  well-trained 
young  fellow.  There  is  no  reason  to  think  she 
doesn't  love  him.  His  conceit  is  the  only  thing 
against  him,  and  she  may  not  mind  that.  A 
gentle,  yielding  nature  like  hers  is  often  attracted 
by  a  dominant,  overbearing  one  like  his.  I 
have  often  noticed  it.  Maybe  it  is  intended  by 
nature  and  providence  to  keep  the  balance  of 
things.  What  would  become  of  the  world  if  all 
the  strong  ones  or  all  the  good  ones  were  to  come 
together,  and  leave  all  the  weak  ones  or  all  the  bad 
ones  by  themselves  ?  You  can  see  at  once  that 
that  would  never  do  —  everything  would  be  at 
once  unbalanced.  It's  hard  on  the  good  and  the 
strong ;  but  then,  many  of  nature's  provisions  are 
hard  on  the  individual,  and  yet  they  all  work  for 
the  welfare  of  creation." 

He  said  this  with  a  smile  and  a  chuckle,  hoping 
to  win  his  friend  to  the  half-earnest,  half- jesting 
talk  with  which  they  sometimes  tried  to  lighten 
the  heavy  burdens  that  both  were  constantly 
bearing.  But  he  saw  that  Paul  could  not 
respond,  and  he  went  back  at  once  to  the  grave 
sympathy  with  which  he  had  been  speaking. 

"  At  all  events,  this  young  couple  have  chosen 
one  another  for  better  or  worse,  and  we,  as  honest 
men,  and  Christians,  cannot  allow  ourselves  to 
discuss,  or  even  think  of  anything  else.  I  wish 


THE  WEB  THAT  SEEMED  TO  BE  WOVEN     227 

I  could  help  you,  my  son,  but  I  can  only  beg 
you  to  hold  to  your  own  road  in  life,  to  press 
straight  on  upward  as  steadily  and  as  bravely  as 
you  can.  And  you  must  put  all  thought  of 
Philip  Alston,  too,  out  of  your  mind.  You  and 
I  must  work  for  the  saving  of  men's  bodies  and 
souls — we  have  nothing  to  do  with  their  punish- 
ment. Work,  my  son  !  Work,  work  for  others, 
that  is  the  secret  of  happiness !  And  if  we 
work  hard  enough  for  the  help  and  the  healing 
of  others,  it  may  be  that  after  a  while  we  will 
be  allowed  to  find  help  and  healing  for  our- 
selves." 

And  the  young  man  looking  sadly  in  the  face 
of  the  old  man  promised  that  he  would  try  — 
that  he  would  do  his  best. 


XVI 

I 

LOVE'S   TOUCHSTONE 

RUTH,  meantime,  was  still  waiting  and  watch- 
ing the  forest  path,  and  wondering  why  he  did 
not  come  back.  He  nearly  always  passed  Cedar 
House  more  than  once  during  the  day,  but  he  did 
not  return  now,  although  she  waited  and  watched 
from  early  morning  till  the  sun  went  down.  She 
was  tired  of  hearing  the  old  ladies  wrangling  over 
the  hearth,  and  going  outside  the  door  she  had 
played  with  the  swan,  and  had  grown  tired  of 
that.  Looking  listlessly  about  for  something  else 
to  do,  she  caught  sight  of  David  sitting  alone 
under  the  willows  on  the  river  bank.  He  thought 
himself  safely  hidden  for  the  reading  of  his  book, 
but  the  foliage  was  thinner  now  on  the  slender 
golden  wands ;  some  of  them  were  quite  bare,  and 
hung  like  long  silken  fringes  of  shining  yellow. 
The  first  frost  had  touched  them  on  the  night 
before ;  the  soft  breeze  was  freighted  with  drift- 
ing leaves,  and  there  was  a  fresh  sparkle  in  the 
crystalline  air. 

She  had  put  on  a  long  coat  of  dove-colored 
cloth  —  one  of  the  fine  garments  that  Philip 
Alston  was  always  finding  for  her  —  on  account 

228 


LOVE'S  TOUCHSTONE  229 

of  the  cool  weather,  and  she  was  wearing  her 
gypsy  bonnet  tied  down  with  its  three-cornered 
handkerchief  of  white  lace,  so  that  she  was  all 
ready  for  going  further  from  the  house.  In 
another  moment  she  was  skimming  down  the 
river  bank  toward  the  boy.  He  saw  her  coming ; 
but  she  moved  so  like  a  darting  swallow  that 
he  barely  had  time  to  hide  his  book  under  the 
mossy  log  on  which  he  was  sitting  before  she 
fluttered  into  a  seat  beside  him,  nestling  against 
his  arm. 

"  There  now !  "  she  sighed,  smoothing  down 
her  skirts.  «  Now  we  can  have  a  nice  long  talk 
about  love." 

The  boy  moved  with  the  uneasiness  that  every 
boy  feels  at  any  abstract  approach  to  the  great 
topic.  The  girl  went  straight  on,  with  all  the 
serenity  of  the  least  experienced  of  her  sex.  Her 
big  blue  eyes  were  gravely  fixed  on  his  reddened 
face.  Her  own  was  quite  calm,  and  very  serious 
indeed.  Her  soft  lips  were  set  as  firmly  as 
one  rose  leaf  may  be  folded  against  another. 
The  tips  of  her  little  fingers  met  in  wisdom's 
gesture. 

«  Listen,  David,  dear.  Listen  well,  and  think 
hard.  I  have  been  thinking  a  great  deal  about 
love  lately.  It  is  right,  you  know,  that  all  young 
people  should.  I  will  tell  you  everything  that  I 
have  thought,  and  then  you  must  tell  me  what 
you  think.  For  there  are  some  things  that  I 
can't  find  out  by  myself,  though  I  have  tried 


230  BOUND   ANVIL  KOCK 

and  tried.  And  boys  ought  to  know  more  than 
girls  about  love.  But  I  don't  believe  they  do  ! " 

The  blue  eyes  gazed  at  him  rather  severely 
from  under  the  gypsy  hat.  It  was  the  woman 
arraigning  the  man  with  the  eternal  challenge. 
The  boy  looked  down  at  the  ground,  and  tried 
not  to  feel  guilty,  as  the  challenged  always  do. 
Ruth  saw  how  it  was,  and  relented,  as  the 
woman  always  does.  She  ran  her  arm  through 
David's,  and  gave  it  an  affectionate  teasing  little 
squeeze. 

"You  can't  help  not  knowing  anything,  can 
you,  poor  dear  ?  "  she  said,  with  sweet  laughter. 
"  Well,  then,  never  mind.  We  will  try  to  find 
out  together.  There  are  only  three  things  that 
I  really  must  know  —  that  I  can't  possibly  do 
without  knowing." 

The  smile  faded.  She  sat  silently  gazing 
across  the  wide,  quiet  river. 

"  Only  three  really  very,  very  important  things," 
she  presently  went  on.  «  The  first  is  this  :  How 
may  a  girl  tell  what  people  call  '  true  love '  from 
every  other  kind  of  love  ?  You  see,  dear,  there 
are  so  many  kinds  of  love,  and  they  are  all  true, 
too.  When  a  girl  like  me  has  loved  every  one 
ever  since  she  could  remember  —  because  every 
one  has  always  been  so  good  and  loving  to  her 
that  she  couldn't  help  it  —  she  knows,  of  course, 
when  another  kind  of  love  comes ;  but  she  doesn't 
know  whether  it  is  truer  than  all  the  rest.  How 
can  she  tell?  That  is  one  of  the  things  I 


LOVE'S   TOUCHSTONE  231 

want  to  find  out  —  the  first  of  the  three  really 
important  things  that  I  most  wish  to  know," 
checking  it  off  on  her  small  forefinger. 

Resting  her  elbow  on  her  knee,  and  her  chin  in 
the  palm  of  her  hand,  she  fell  suddenly  silent  again, 
and  sat  gazing  across  the  river.  Her  blue  eyes 
seemed  to  be  wistfully  seeking  the  secret  of  love 
among  the  rosy  mists  which  the  sunset  had  left 
beneath  the  shadowy  trees.  She  did  not  observe 
that  the  boy  made  no  reply.  Her  lovely  head 
was  intently  bent  to  the  other  side,  as  if  listening 
to  hear  some  whisper  from  her  own  heart.  When 
she  spoke,  it  was  in  a  low,  absent  tone,  as  though 
she  were  whispering  to  herself,  or  thinking  only 
half  aloud. 

"  And  what  are  the  signs  of  true  love  ?  That  is 
the  next  thing.  What  are  the  sure  signs  that 
true  love  may  be  known  by,  so  that  there  can  be 
no  danger  of  making  a  mistake,  no  risk  of  taking 
one  kind  of  love  for  another?  That  is  the  question. 
How  do  the  signs  of  true  love  look  ?  How  do 
they  feel,  I  wonder  ?  Can  it  be  one  of  the  sure 
signs  of  true  love  to  feel  at  the  first  sight  of  a 
face  that  it  is  the  one  you  have  most  wanted  to 
see  all  your  life  ?  Can  it  be  one  of  the  sure  signs 
of  true  love  to  have  your  heart  leap  at  the  first 
sound  of  a  voice,  so  that  you  are  glad  to  be  alive 
—  glad  —  glad  as  you  never  were  before,  although 
you  have  always  been  happy?  I  wonder — I 
wonder!  And  can  it  be  another  of  the  sure 
signs  of  true  love  to  feel  utter  content  in  one 


232  ROUND   ANVIL   ROCK 

presence,  to  feel  that,  walled  in  with  it  forever 
away  from  all  the  rest  of  the  world,  there  would 
be  nothing  left  outside  on  the  whole,  wide  earth 
to  wish  for  ?  Do  you  think  so,  David  ?  I  wonder 
if  it  can  be.  And  then  can  it  be  yet  another  of 
true  love's  sure  signs  to  have  a  warm,  sweet  glow 
come  around  the  heart,  as  it  never  did  before, 
and  to  have  something  tell  you  that  it  will  grow 
warmer  and  sweeter  and  brighter  as  long  as  you 
live  ?  I  wonder — winder — wonder.  And  could 
it  be  the  surest  sign  of  all,  that  you. don't  know 
why  any  of  all  these  things  are  so ;  that  you 
only  know  that  everything  some  one  is  and  says 
and  thinks  and  does  —  satisfies  and  delights  your 
eyes  and  mind  and  heart  and  soul." 

Two  heavy  tears,  like  sudden  drops  from  a 
summer  shower,  fell  on  her  clasped  hands,  al- 
though her  lips  were  smiling  and  she  was  still 
softly  thinking  aloud. 

"And  yet  there  is  another  kind  of  love  — 
quite,  quite  different  from  this  —  and  that,  too, 
must  be  true.  A  feeling  that  you  have  had 
ever  since  you  could  remember  must  be  true, 
surely.  And  you  are  always  thinking  about 
this  one  —  always  arguing  with  yourself  about 
how  right  and  reasonable  it  is.  There  isn't  any 
trouble  in  finding  one  the  reasons  for  this  love. 
The  only  trouble  about  this  kind  of  love  is  in 
your  own  unworthiness.  It's  somehow  dis- 
heartening and  tiring  to  be  always  looking  up, 
higher  than  you  can  see,  as  "though  you  stood 


LOVE'S   TOUCHSTONE  233 

all  the  time  on  your  tip-toes.  And  then  when 
you  are  always  feeling  how  unwise  and  childish 
you  are,  it  is  hard  to  love  wisdom  and  dignity  as 
they  deserve  to  be  loved." 

Saying  this,  Ruth  turned  suddenly  upon  David. 
Her  soft  eyes  were  flashing  through  her  tears. 

«  Why  do  you  sit  there  like  a  stone  and  never 
say  a  word ! "  she  demanded.  « I  knew  you 
didn't  know  the  first  earthly  thing  about  love, 
but  I  didn't  know  you  were  dumb.  Why  don't 
you  speak  ?  Can't  you  say  what  a  fine  fellow 
William  is?  You  know  it,  just  as  well  as  I 
do  !  Everybody  knows  it.  Everybody  respects 
William  and  looks  up  to  him.  Everybody  is 
bound  to  do  it.  He  always  does  what  is  right 
and  sensible.  He  isn't  forever  doing  and  saying 
things  that  he  has  to  be  sorry  for,  as  I  am. 
He  always  goes  steadily  straight  ahead.  He 
isn't  moved  by  every  heart-beat  and  swayed  by 
every  fancy  like  you  and  me.  Why  even  uncle 
Robert  defers  to  William,  because  he  is  so  digni- 
fied and  right-minded.  He  always  knows  just 
what  to  do  and  say.  Uncle  Philip  often  speaks 
of  it.  He  appreciates  William.  He  never  criti- 
cises him  for  being  serious  when  other  people 
are  joking.  And  I've  seen  you  do  it  many  a 
time,  when  you  didn't  know  I  was  looking. 
Yes,  and  uncle  Robert,  too.  I've  seen  his  eye- 
brow go  up  when  he  didn't  know  that  it  did. 
And  I  won't  have  it !  Do  you  hear  ?  I  won't 
have  people  laughing  at  William,  just  because 


234  ROUND   ANVIL   ROCK 

he  never  laughs.  I  like  him  all  the  better  for  it. 
I  think  all  the  more  highly  of  him  because  he 
never  understands  my  silly,  light  little  ways. 
I  do  —  I  tell  you  I  do  ! " 

She  sprang  up  and  stamped  her  foot,  and  then, 
sitting  down  again,  burst  into  helpless  sobbing, 
and  laid  her  head  on  the  boy's  shoulder.  He 
could  only  draw  her  closer,  and  hold  her  in  silent 
tenderness,  having  no  words  that  he  dared  utter. 
After  a  time  her  sobs  ceased,  and  lifting  her  head, 
she  looked  round,  dimpling  and  smiling  through 
the  tears  which  were  still  heavy  on  her  dark 
lashes. 

"Well,  then,  since  you  don't  know  anything 
•about  love,  sir,  look  and  see  what  your  silly  old 
book  says.  Oh,  you  needn't  pretend  that  you 
haven't  got  it,"  she  said  gayly.  « If  it  isn't  in 
your  hand,  it  is  in  your  pocket,  or  you  have 
hidden  it.  Get  it  instantly,"  pretending  to 
shake  him. 

The  boy  bashfully  drew  the  book  from  be- 
neath the  log,  while  Ruth  bantered  him  with 
sweet,  bubbling  laughter  that  made  him  think 
of  awakening  birds  and  blossoming  orchards. 
He  turned  the  leaves  in  embarrassed  haste. 

"  I  don't  find  anything  about  love,"  he  stam- 
mered. « But  here  is  something  about  mar- 
riage." 

"  As  if  they  weren't  one  and  the  same ! " 
cried  Ruth.  «  Read  it.  Let's  hear  what  it  says. 
Read  every  word  carefully  and  distinctly." 


LOVE'S   TOUCHSTONE  235 

David  then  read  aloud  what  the  Knight  of 
the  Oracle  said  to  the  Most  Fair  Constantia : 

"They  are  truly  married  that  have  with 
united  hearts  plighted  promise  of  perpetual 
friendship,  electing  one  another  by  true  love 
and  not  by  outward  ceremony ;  for  where  true 
love  is  not  there  can  be  no  perfect  marriage, 
though  the  outward  ceremony  be  never  so  well 
performed." 

"  As  if  everybody  didn't  know  that  already  !  " 
scouted  Ruth.  «  Any  gosling  of  a  girl  knows 
that  without  having  to  be  told.  There  isn't  a 
single  word  there  to  tell  what  true  love  is,  and 
what  its  signs  are.  If  I  didn't  love  you  so 
dearly,  David,  I  couldn't  love  you  at  all  when 
you  are  so  dull.  What  do  you  mean  by  reading 
anything  so  tiresome  out  of  that  foolish  book  ? 
I  think  worse  of  it  than  ever." 

Her  smiles  vanished  like  watery  sunbeams. 
David  trembled  for  fear  she  might  begin  crying 
again.  But  she  looked  fondly  up  in  his  face, 
and  beamed  brightly  when  she  saw  how  fright- 
ened he  was. 

"  But  you  know  I  do  love  you,  David,  dear. 
You  know  that  you  are  all  I  have,  of  my  very 
own,"  she  said.  "  I  am  unreasonable  —  I  know 
that  well  enough  ;  but  I  couldn't  help  being  hurt 
at  your  injustice  to  William.  Could  I,  dear  ?  " 

«  Oh,  no  !  No  indeed  ! "  responded  the  boy, 
with  vague  eagerness. 

"  Well,  then,  I  will  forgive  you  if  you  promise 


236  ROUND  ANVIL   KOCK 

never  to  do  it  again.  And  do  you  know  any 
more  about  birds  than  you  do  about  love,  you 
poor  dear  ?  Look  at  that  one  flying  over  the  river. 
Why  do  they  always  cross  the  stream  in  a  slant- 
ing direction  ?  Why  do  they  never  fly  straight 
across  ?  And  why  do  birds  sing  so  seldom  in  the 
depths  of  the  forest  ?  And  is  it  true  that  none 
of  the  singing  birds  were  here  till  the  settlers 
came  ?  It  is  said  that  they  came  with  the 
settlers.  I've  heard  many  persons  state  that  as 
a  fact.  But  how  does  anybody  know  ?  Did  any 
bird  say  so  ?  Those  paroquets  could  tell  if  they 
would  ;  but  they  never  will.  They  only  chatter 
to  scold  one  another.  Just  listen !  I  am  sure 
they  could  tell  lots  of  things  if  they  liked.  They 
are  not  so  green  as  they  look  —  not  half  so  green 
as  you,  my  dear.  I  shall  have  to  ask  Mr.  Au- 
dubon  if  there  were  any  birds  here  before  the 
settlers  came.  He  will  know  ;  he  doesn't  go 
round  all  the  time  with  his  head  in  the  clouds,  as 
you  do.  You  don't  even  know  how  old  a  snow- 
goose  has  to  be  before  it  turns  from  gray  to  white. 
And  you  really  ought  to  know  that,  because  you 
are  a  goose  yourself.  I  saw  a  pure  white  snow- 
goose  the  other  day  on  the  pond  back  of  Cedar 
House,  and  when  the  snow-goose  comes,  then 
winter  is  here,  and  it  isn't  long  till  Christmas." 

She  suddenly  stood  up  shivering,  and  said  she 
was  cold ;  but  it  was  the  thought  of  Christmas 
Eve,  not  the  frost  in  the  air,  that  sent  the  chill 
to  her  heart. 


XVII 

THE    ONCOMING    OF   THE    STORM 

ON  entering  the  great  room  of  Cedar  House 
they  found  the  rest  of  the  family  in  a  most 
unusual  state  of  excitement.  The  lamps  and 
candles  had  not  been  lighted,  as  it  was  not  yet 
quite  dark,  but  the  firelight  was  bright,  and  they 
could  plainly  see  the  anxiety  on  every  face. 

Miss  Penelope  was  in  her  accustomed  place, 
which  she  could  no  more  get  away  from  than 
a  planet  could  leave  its  orbit.  But  her  atten- 
tion was  wandering,  as  it  rarely  did,  and  she  was 
silently  casting  uneasy  glances  at  the  judge  and 
his  nephew  who  sat  on  the  other  side  of  the 
room,  talking  to  each  other  in  a  loud,  excited 
tone.  The  widow  Broadnax,  also,  was  in  her 
usual  seat  in  the  chimney-corner,  yet  looking 
now  and  then  at  the  two  men;  and  the  mere 
fact  that  she  thus  allowed  her  gaze  to  stray  for 
a  moment  from  what  her  half-sister  was  doing, 
indicated  the  uncommon  disturbance  of  her 
mind. 

Ruth  and  David  hardly  knew  the  judge  as  he 
looked  and  spoke  now,  for  it  was  he  who  was 
speaking  as  they  came  in.  He  had  just  motioned 

237 


238  BOUND   ANVIL   ROCK 

his  nephew  to  silence  with  a  sternness  which  was 
not  to  be  disobeyed.  His  voice  rang  with  a 
decision  and  severity,  such  as  none  of  the  house- 
hold had  ever  heard  from  him,  who  was  com- 
monly so  carelessly  mild  and  abstracted. 

"  No  one  shall,  with  my  consent,  or  even  my 
knowledge,  go  from  my  house  to  Duff's  Fort  on 
any  account  whatever." 

"  Pardon  me,  sir,"  began  William,  stiffly. 

He  was  keeping  his  self-control  with  the  air  of 
one  who  does  it  under  great  provocation,  and  who 
has  scant  respect  for  those  who  lose  it ;  but  his 
face  was  flushed,  and  his  eyes  were  angry.  The 
strained  coldness  of  his  tone  and  manner  were 
like  oil  to  the  flame  of  his  uncle's  wrath.  The 
judge's  hand  went  out  in  a  gesture  that  had 
almost  the  force  of  a  blow. 

"  Stop  !  "  he  shouted.  "  I  refuse  even  to  dis- 
cuss the  matter.  It  is  enough  for  me  to  tell 
you  again  that  no  one  shall  go  from  under  my 
roof  to  the  place  where  robbers  and  cutthroats 
congregate.  It's  a  disgrace  that  I  haven't  been 
able  to  break  up  their  den.  I  have  done  my 
best,  and  I  am  still  doing  it,  but  the  reproach  of 
this  band's  existence,  here  at  my  very  door,  never- 
theless rests  on  me  more  than  on  any  one  else. 
I  am  the  representative  of  the  law  —  the  law, 
good  God !  with  the  country  in  the  murderous 
clutches  of  that  lawless  gang !  Keep  away,  I  tell 
you !  And  I  will  ask  Alston  what  he  means  by 
even  seeming  to  give  countenance  to  those  scoun- 


THE  ONCOMING  OF   THE   STORM  239 

drels  by  going  nigh  them.  Business  !  What  busi- 
ness can  he  or  any  other  decent  man  have  with 
the  nest  of  rattlesnakes  that  we  can't  drag  out 
from  under  that  bluff?" 

"  It  is  a  very  simple  matter,  sir,  if  you  would 
permit  me  to  explain,"  William  said  more  coldly 
and  deliberately  than  ever.  "  Mr.  Alston  is 
merely  making  a  trade  for  a  boatload  of  horses, 
and  simply  asked  me,  as  his  attorney,  to  meet 
him  at  Duffs  Fort  to  draw  up  the  contract  with 
Mason  and  Sturtevant." 

The  judge  stared  blankly  for  a  moment,  so 
overwhelmed  by  surprise  that  he  forgot  his 
anger.  "Mason  and  Sturtevant,"  he  repeated. 
"  Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  that  a  man  of  half 
Alston's  intelligence  doesn't  know  that  those  men 
never  have  a  horse  that  they  haven't  stolen  ?  " 

William  Pressley  said  nothing  more  ;  he  sus- 
pected that  his  uncle  had  been  drinking  a  little 
more  heavily  than  common.  Moreover,  it  scarcely 
seemed  worth  while  to  argue  with  blind  prejudice, 
drunk  or  sober. 

"  Then  if  you've  got  nothing  more  to  say,  it's 
with  Alston  that  I  will  settle  this  matter.  But  all 
the  same,  I  forbid  you  to  go  near  Duffs  Fort.  I 
have  a  right  to  forbid  you,  as  a  member  of  my 
household.  I  have  a  right  to  forbid  any  one  be- 
longing to  my  family  to  do  anything  that  touches 
my  own  honor,  my  good  name.  And  this  touches 
both  to  the  quick." 

«  Very  well,  sir.     I  shall  tell  Mr.  Alston  what 


240  ROUND   ANVIL   ROCK 

you  say.  I  must,  of  course,  give  some  reason 
for  breaking  a  professional  engagement,"  said 
William. 

«  I  shall  tell  him  a  few  things  myself,"  stormed 
the  judge.  "  It's  all  very  well  for  him  to  put 
on  his  high-and-mighty  tolerant  air  about  the 
state  of  things  hereabouts,  and  to  keep  on 
saying,  soothingly,  that  everything  will  come 
right  after  a  while,  as  it  does  in  all  new  coun- 
tries; but  neither  he  nor  any  honest  man  can 
afford  to  handle  pitch.  It  sticks  to  the  cleanest 
hands.  See  that  you  keep  yours  out  of  it.  No- 
body belonging  to  me  shall  be  smirched  —  and 
just  now,  too,  when  we  are  going  to  cleanse  the 
whole  country  of  it  at  last,  thank  God !  We 
have  only  been  waiting  for  a  chance  to  carry  out 
the  plan  which  was  arranged  while  General 
Jackson  was  here.  Joe  Daviess  has  now  found 
the  opportunity,  and  our  campaign  has  already 
begun.  He  is  determined  to  put  it  in  motion 
before  he  leaves  for  Tippecanoe  —  " 

"  Then  he  is  really  going  ?  "  broke  in  William, 
quickly,  with  a  marked  change  of  tone  and 
manner. 

The  judge  paid  no  attention  to  the  question. 
He  seldom  noticed  what  his  nephew  said,  and 
his  thoughts  were  now  solely  of  the  undertak- 
ing which  absorbed  him  heart  and  soul.  After 
thinking  deeply  in  silence  for  a  few  moments,  he 
spoke  of  the  plan  more  fully,  even  freely,  as  he 
was  in  the  habit  of  speaking  in  the  bosom  of 


THE   ONCOMING  OF  THE  STORM          241 

his  own  family.  There  was  no  one  else  present ; 
even  the  servants  were  gone  out  of  the  room. 
Moreover,  he  had  been  drinking,  as  his  nephew 
suspected,  and  the  stimulant,  together  with  the 
excitement,  carried  him  beyond  all  prudence. 
He  did  not  even  lower  his  tone. 

"  Yes,  we  begin  the  good  work  this  very  night. 
We've  got  the  chance  we  have  been  waiting  for 
—  the  chance  to  catch  those  cutthroats  red- 
handed  !  We  had  news  yesterday  that  three 
men  were  coming  over  the  Wilderness  Road, 
bringing  a  large  sum  of  money  to  buy  land.  The 
negotiation  has  been  under  way  for  weeks.  We 
have  learned  that  this  fact,  and  the  time  when 
these  men  are  expected  to  pass  through  here,  are 
both  as  well  known  at  Duff's  Fort  as  they  are 
to  us.  We  have  also  had  news  of  the  coining  of 
a  large  flatboat  with  a  rich  cargo,  which  is  due 
to  pass  down  the  river  by  Duff's  Fort  some  time 
during  to-morrow  night.  Those  hungry  demons 
are  said  to  be  ready  and  waiting  for  the  travel- 
lers by  land  and  water  —  and  we  are  ready  and 
waiting  for  them !  Just  let  them  lift  a  hand  to 
rob  or  murder,  and  we  will  be  on  hand,  too! 
The  attorney-general  has  sent  a  large  posse  of 
picked  men  down  the  river  to  come  up  overland 
on  the  further  side  of  the  fort.  Another  posse 
has  gone  round  by  the  swamp  to  guard  that 
quarter,  and  there  is  a  boat  in  readiness  on  the 
other  side  of  the  river,  well  armed  and  fully 
manned.  Yes,  we've  got  the  scoundrels  safe 


242  ROUND  ANVIL   ROCK 

enough  this  time !  We've  run  them  to  earth 
at  last.  There  is  only  one  loophole,  and  the 
attorney-general  himself  is  to  guard  that  —  the 
path  round  Anvil  Rock.  That  is  the  band's 
highway.  The  rock  is  their  rallying-point  and 
we  couldn't  see  at  first  how  we  were  to  watch  it 
without  putting  the  scoundrels  on  their  guard. 
To  send  any  number  of  men,  even  two  or  three, 
in  that  direction,  would  have  been  to  give  the 
alarm  at  once  —  as  the  moon  is  about  full. 
After  consultation,  it  was  decided  that  the 
attorney-general  alone  should  attend  to  this 
delicate  part  of  the  plan.  It  was  his  own 
suggestion  that  he  should  go  to  Anvil  Rock  im- 
mediately after  dark  to-morrow  night,  and  wait 
there  in  the  shadow  —  watching  everything  that 
passes  —  till  his  men  join  him,  after  beating  the 
bushes  and  going  over  the  country  with  a  drag- 
net. It's  a  dangerous  task  that  he  has  taken 
on  himself,  notwithstanding  that  the  posse  guard- 
ing the  swamp  should  be  in  hearing  of  his  voice 
by  the  time  he  reaches  Anvil  Rock.  I  told  him 
so ;  but  he  said  that  it  must  be  done  by  some 
one  man,  since  more  than  one  would  defeat  our 
whole  undertaking,  and  that  it  was  the  duty 
of  no  one  but  himself.  However,  he  has  ordered 
all  his  men  —  the  different  posses  sent  out  in  vari- 
ous directions  —  to  draw  in  toward  Anvil  Rock,  so 
that  he  will  not  be  there  long  alone,  and  not  at  any 
time  beyond  the  hearing  of  his  men,  should  he  find 
it  necessary  to  call  for  help.  Anyway,  I  couldn't 


THE   ONCOMING  OF   THE   STORM  243 

dissuade  him  from  going  alone.  It  was  no  more 
than  General  Jackson  had  done,  he  declared, 
when  I  protested ;  and  he  also  thought  that 
being  alone  made  it  unlikely  that  he  would  be 
observed.  The  main  object  was  for  him  to  be 
near  by  when  his  men  should  need  him,  and  that 
purpose  would  be  best  served  by  his  waiting  in  the 
shadow  of  Anvil  Rock.  I  said  what  I  could,  and 
urged  him  to  let  me  go  with  him,  but  he  stuck 
to  it  that  only  one  man  must  go."  The  judge 
spoke  anxiously,  wearily  now,  all  anger  forgot- 
ten. "  And  he  will  be  there.  He  never  knew 
what  fear  was,  in  doing  his  duty  ;  he  would  walk 
straight  into  the  devil's  den  and  attack  him 
single-handed,  without  the  quiver  of  a  nerve." 

"  Allow  me  to  congratulate  you,  sir,"  William 
Pressley  said  distantly,  with  an  air  of  polite  con- 
cession to  somewhat  foolish  enthusiasm.  « I 
think  you  have  perhaps  been  rather  more 
troubled  over  certain  outbreaks  of  lawlessness 
than  you  need  have  been.  They  are  to  be  ex- 
pected, I  suppose,  in  all  new  countries,  and  they 
gradually  disappear  before  the  advance  of  civil- 
ization, as  Mr.  Alston  says.  All  that  is  in  the 
natural  order  of  human  events.  However,  since 
you  have  been  so  much  disturbed,  I  am  truly 
pleased  that  you  are  so  soon  to  be  relieved  of  all 
uneasiness  from  this  source.  May  I  ask,  sir,  if 
you  can  tell  me  the  precise  date  of  the  attorney- 
general's  departure  —  for  the  seat  of  war,  I  mean 
—  for  Tippecanoe  ?  " 


244  ROUND  ANVIL   ROCK 

The  judge  shook  his  head,  hardly  hearing  the 
inquiry.  The  agitation  which  had  shaken  him 
was  leaving  him  greatly  spent.  The  old  look  of 
abstraction  came  back,  quickly  dulling  his  gaze, 
and,  sinking  down  in  his  chair,  he  very  soon 
began  to  nod  and  doze. 

«  With  your  permission,  sir,"  William  went  on 
with  a  touch  of  sarcasm  in  his  cool,  slow  voice, 
"  I  should  like  to  call  upon  Mr.  Alston  to-mor- 
row. You  have,  I  presume,  no  objection  to  my 
going  to  see  him  in  his  own  house.  It  is  impos- 
sible to  drop  a  matter  of  business  without  a 
word  of  explanation.  And  if  you  have  no  objec- 
tion, I  will  mention  to  him  the  matters  of  which 
you  have  just  been  speaking.  No  one  has  a 
deeper  interest  in  the  public  welfare,  and  cer- 
tainly no  one  could  be  more  eminently  discreet. 
However,  I  shall,  of  course,  speak  in  the  strictest 
confidence." 

The  judge  bent  his  head,  but  it  was  in  nodding 
not  in  assent,  for  he  had  not  heard  a  word  that 
his  nephew  said.  And  William  saw  nothing  but 
the  nod  with  a  sidewise  glance  of  aversion  at 
the  signs  of  his  uncle's  weakness. 

It  was  the  boy  who  heard  and  saw  everything, 
and  remembered  and  weighed  it,  with  a  feeling 
of  alarm  that  he  knew  no  reason  for,  and  could 
not  explain  to  himself.  It  was  his  instinct  to 
dislike  anything  that  William  Pressley  said  or 
did,  and  to  distrust  everything  in  which  Philip 
Alston  was  concerned.  He  looked  round  at  Ruth 


THE  ONCOMING  OF  THE  STORM           245 

to  see  if  she  shared  his  feeling,  and  saw  that  she 
was  gazing  at  William  Pressley  with  troubled 
eyes. 

They  had  scarcely  exchanged  a  word  since 
their  quarrel,  although  she  had  made  many 
timid  advances  toward  a  reconciliation.  It  was 
conscience  and  not  love  which  had  moved  her 
in  all  that  she  had  done,  but  this  fact  was 
not  yet  clear  to  her  own  mind.  She  was  begin- 
ning to  see  it,  but  she  tried  to  shut  her  eyes 
to  the  truth,  being  a  loyal  soul,  and  firm  in 
her  high  regard  for  the  man  whom  she  had 
promised  to  marry.  There  had  been  no  oppor- 
tunity to  tell  him  what  she  felt ;  and  she  was 
still  more  distressed  to  see  that  he  avoided  seeing 
her  alone.  It  was  of  this  cloud  between  them 
that  she  was  thinking  now,  and  it  was  that  which 
shadowed  her  face.  She  had  not  noted  very 
keenly  what  was  going  forward  about  her.  She 
had  shrunk  from  the  judge's  excitement  and  agi- 
tation, as  she  always  did  from  all  violence ;  but 
the  meaning  of  his  words  had  not  impressed  her 
deeply  or  even  clearly.  Her  gentle  nature  and 
her  tranquil  life  were  too  far  from  strife,  cruelty, 
and  crime  for  her  to  grasp  the  full  purport  of 
the  story.  She  had  heard  William  Pressley 
speak  of  telling  Philip  Alston,  without  giving  the 
matter  a  thought.  It  was  right  in  her  eyes 
that  he  should  be  told  everything.  The  mention 
of  his  name  caused  her  to  think  that  it  would 
be  well  to  tell  him  of  her  quarrel  with  William 


246  BOUND  ANVIL  KOCK 

and  of  her  regret  and  self-reproach.  He  was 
wise  and  kind,  and  would  know  what  was  right 
and  best  to  do.  Perhaps  he  might  even  see 
some  way  by  which  the  engagement  could  be 
broken  without  wrong  or  hurt  to  William's 
feelings.  A  measure  of  peace  came  with  the 
hope,  and  she  was  presently  gazing  into  the  fire, 
dreaming  more  than  thinking,  and  feeling  assured 
that  the  doctor  would  stop  when  he  went  by 
on  the  next  morning. 

The  boy  saw  how  absorbed  she  was,  and  felt 
that  there  was  no  use  in  waiting  to  speak  to  her, 
to  tell  her  of  the  vague  alarm  which  had  seized 
him.  And  then  what  was  there  to  tell  her  or 
any  one  ?  He  would  only  be  laughed  at  for 
fancying  things,  as  he  often  had  been  before,  and 
remembering  this,  he  crept  off  to  his  own  cabin 
and  went  to  bed.  But  he  could  not  go  to  sleep 
for  a  long  time,  and  when  he  awoke  at  dawn  the 
formless  dread  was  still  dark  in  his  mind,  like 
some  fearsome  shape  behind  an  impenetrable 
curtain.  And  there  it  stayed  all  the  day  through, 
never  quite  coming  out  into  the  light,  but  grow- 
ing steadily  larger  and  darker  and  more  terrible 
as  the  long  heavy  hours  wore  on.  When  —  at 
last  —  the  dusk  began  to  creep  down  the  river, 
he  grew  so  restless  in  his  nameless  misery  that 
he  wandered  into  the  forest,  and  there  met  the 
doctor  riding  along  the  path  on  the  way  to  his 
lonely  cabin. 

Paul's  face  brightened  at  the  sight  of  the  boy ; 


THE  ONCOMING  OF   THE   STORM           247 

he  had  always  liked  him,  and  had  been  drawn  to 
him  before  knowing  of  Ruth's  existence.  Still 
the  thought  of  her  was  now  foremost  in  his 
mind  as  he  looked  at  David.  We  are  all  glad  to 
see  those  who  are  near  the  one  whom  we  love; 
we  are  even  eager  to  seek  those  whom  we  would 
otherwise  avoid  when  they  are  near  our  beloved 
from  whom  we  are  parted.  This  eagerness  was 
in  Paul  Colbert's  face  as  he  looked  at  the  boy 
and  asked  with  some  hesitation  if  he  was  in 
haste. 

"  If  you  are  not,"  he  said,  "  I  should  like  to 
have  a  little  talk  with  you.  Let's  sit  down  on 
that  fallen  tree." 

Dismounting,  he  led  his  horse  along  the  path, 
with  the  boy  following  in  silence.  They  sat 
down  side  by  side  on  the  tree-trunk,  the  doctor 
holding  his  horse  by  the  bridle.  There  were  new 
lines  in  his  face  which  did  not  belong  to  youth, 
and  which  had  not  been  graven  by  his  fierce 
struggle  with  the  Cold  Plague.  The  boy  noticed 
them  and  knew  that  they  had  not  been  there 
when  he  had  last  seen  the  doctor's  face.  Its 
look  of  gloom  also  had  come  back.  That  had 
lifted  at  the  moment  of  meeting,  but  it  was  too 
deep  to  go  so  suddenly,  and  it  had  now  returned. 
He  turned  to  the  boy  uncertainly,  for  there  had 
been  no  clear  purpose  in  his  speaking  to  the  lad. 
He  had  spoken  on  an  irresistible  impulse  to 
learn  something  of  Ruth,  blindly  clutching  at 
a  possible  bond  between  her  and  himself.  It 


248  ROUND   ANVIL  ROCK 

seemed  years  rather  than  days  since  he  had  heard 
from  her.  But  in  a  single  glance  his  trained  eyes 
saw  that  David  was  in  trouble,  and  by  asking  a 
few  adroit  questions  he  brought  out  all  that 
the  boy  knew.  The  doctor  sat  so  still  for  an 
instant  after  hearing  what  had  passed  between 
the  judge  and  William  Pressley,  that  David 
looked  up  in  surprise  to  see  what  was  the 
matter.  Paul  Colbert  was  very  pale,  and  his 
eyes  were  glancing  round,  searching  the  deepen- 
ing shadows  of  the  forest.  He  made  a  gesture, 
warning  the  boy  to  speak  lower,  and  his  own 
voice  wTas  scarcely  above  a  whisper. 

"  What  time  to-day  did  Pressley  leave  Cedar 
House  ?  Had  he  come  back  when  you  came 
away  ?  Tell  me  again  just  what  he  said  about 
telling  Philip  Alston.  Try  to  remember  every 
word  —  a  valuable  life  may  hang  upon  it.  Keep 
as  cool  as  you  can  —  and  be  careful,  don't  be 
alarmed,  but  be  quick.  Every  word  now  — 
once  more." 

The  boy  repeated  everything  as  accurately  as 
he  could.  While  he  was  speaking,  the  doctor, 
rising  to  his  feet,  gathered  up  the  bridle-reins,  and 
hastily  bending  down,  was  tightening  the  girth. 
When  the  last  item  of  information  had  been 
gathered,  he  vaulted  into  the  saddle. 

"There  isn't  any  time  for  our  talk.  I  must 
gallop  home  for  a  fresh  horse.  This  one  is  too 
tired  for  the  speed  we  need."  He  saw  the  sur- 
prise and^jthe  alarm  in  the  boy's  gaze,  and  lean- 


THE   ONCOMING  OF  THE  STORM          249 

ing  over,  took  his  trembling  hand.  "  Don't  be 
troubled.  You  are  in  no  way  to  blame,  what- 
ever happens.  You  have  done  the  very  best  thing 
possible  in  telling  me  this.  It  may  not  be  too 
late.  I  shall  try.  I  am  going  at  once  to  do  all 
that  I  can  to  warn  or  to  guard  a  great  man's  life. 
The  delay  in  getting  the  fresh  horse  is  the  worst ; 
but,"  hastily  grasping  his  hand  again,  "  if  I  am 
too  late,  if  I  fail  and  never  come  back,  tell  Ruth 
that  I  did  my  best.  Tell  her  that  I  have  done 
my  best  ever  since  I  have  known.  I  have  kept 
away  from  Cedar  House — have  only  seen  her 
far  off,  feeding  the  birds.  But  that  was  all  I 
could  do.  I  couldn't  help  thinking  of  her,  I 
couldn't  help  what  I  felt.  You  will  remember 
—  and  tell  her?" 

He  looked  down  in  the  boy's  frightened  face 
with  a  strange  smile,  and  then  touching  his  horse 
with  the  spur,  he  flashed  out  of  sight  among  the 
trees. 


XVIII 

THE    GENTLEST    ABE    THE    BRAVEST 

THE  boy  stood  staring  after  him  in  dazed 
alarm.  He  could  not  comprehend  the  cause  of 
his  friend's  sudden  agitation  and  abrupt  depar- 
ture, but  they  filled  him  with  vague,  helpless 
terror.  He  did  not  know  what  to  do  till  he  sud- 
denly felt  the  urgency  of  the  message  to  Ruth, 
and  the  thought  of  her  made  him  turn  and  start 
running  back  to  Cedar  House. 

As  he  went,  he  instinctively  tried  to  calm  him- 
self; he  was  fast  learning  to  hide  the  emotion 
which  was  always  shaking  him.  On  reaching  the 
door  he  paused  for  a  moment,  and  strove  hard  to 
control  his  panting  breath.  He  almost  hoped  that 
this  might  prove  to  be  merely  one  of  the  fancies 
which  were  constantly  swaying  him.  And  then 
there  was  an  instinctive  feeling  that  it  would  be 
best  not  to  tell  any  one  except  Ruth  what  had 
occurred.  The  meaning  of  the  message  to  her 
was  not  yet  clear  to  him,  but  he  nevertheless 
felt  it  to  be  something  which  she  might  not  wish 
others  to  hear.  He  did  not  remember  that  the 
message  was  not  to  be  given  her  unless  Paul  failed 
to  come  back.  There  had  not  been  time  for  Paul 

250 


THE  GENTLEST  ARE  THE  BRAVEST        251 

to  impress  this  upon  him,  and  it  was  natural 
enough  that  the  boy,  startled  and  frightened, 
should  not  have  noted  all  that  was  said. 

His  one  aim  now  was  to  get  a  word  alone  with 
Ruth,  and  hastily  looking  round  the  room,  he 
saw  her  sitting  near  the  hearth.  But  there  was 
no  chance  to  approach  her,  or  to  speak  without 
being  overheard  by  the  whole  family.  Every 
member  of  the  household  was  present,  it  being 
the  evening  hour  when  all  households  come  closest 
together  around  the  fireside.  The  supper-table 
was  laid,  and  a  servant  moved  about  lighting 
the  lamps  and  candles.  William  Pressley  was 
sitting  near  Ruth,  but  it  was  she  who  had  last 
taken  a  seat  and  he  was  silent,  save  as  some 
timid  advance  from  her  compelled  him  to  make 
a  coldly  civil  reply.  His  resentment  was  as  im- 
placable as  ever ;  the  wound  to  his  self-love  had 
only  grown'  deeper  with  nursing,  as  it  always 
does  with  a  nature  like  his.  The  breaking  of  the 
engagement  was  with  him,  now,  merely  a  ques- 
tion of  timeliness,  of  discretion  and  expediency. 
In  these  matters  he  was  not  considering  Ruth's 
feelings  as  she  was  considering  his,  despite  her 
own  most  eager  wish  to  be  free.  He  was  think- 
ing first  of  the  light  in  which  he,  himself,  would 
be  placed.  After  this  he  was  considering  Philip 
Alston's  view  of  his  conduct.  Knowing  that  he 
wished  the  marriage  to  take  place,  William 
Pressley  felt  reasonably  sure  that  Philip  Alston 
would  be  displeased  at  any  breach,  and  that  he 


252  ROUND   ANVIL   ROCK 

would  make  his  displeasure  felt,  should  the  first 
movement  toward  the  breaking  of  the  engage- 
ment come  from  himself.  The  displeasure  of 
Philip  Alston  was  not  a  thing  to  be  lightly 
incurred  at  any  time.  No  one  knew  this  better 
than  William  Pressley,  and  he  saw  it  to  be  par- 
ticularly undesirable  to  displease  him  and  possi- 
bly incur  his  enmity,  just  at  the  moment  when 
his  good-will  might  be  useful  in  the  matter  of 
the  appointment.  William  Pressley  did  not  be- 
lieve Philip  Alston's  influence  to  be  at  all  essen- 
tial —  merit  was  in  his  opinion  the  only  essential. 
Still  it  seemed  best,  under  the  circumstances,  to 
let  the  engagement  stand  till  a  time  more  auspi- 
cious for  breaking  it.  And  then  his  sore  self-love 
found  some  balm  in  the  girl's  self-reproach,  which 
he  saw  plainly  enough,  without  understanding  it 
in  the  least.  It  was  like  him  to  consider  the 
effect  which  the  breaking  of  the  engagement 
might  have  on  his  political  prospects,  and  to  post- 
pone it  on  the  bare  chance  of  its  affecting  them 
adversely.  But  it  was  still  more  like  him  merely 
to  postpone  it  with  an  immovable  determination 
in  his  mind,  utterly  unaffected  by  all  the  girl's 
winning  gentleness  and  open  regret.  And  it  was 
most  of  all  like  him  never  for  an  instant  to  allow 
any  thought  of  Philip  Alston's  fortune  to  make 
him  waver.  All  the  gold  in  the  world  could 
have  done  nothing  to  make  William  Pressley  for- 
get, or  forgive,  the  wound  which  his  self-love  had 
received. 


THE  GENTLEST  ARE  THE  BRAVEST       253 

She  continued  for  a  while  in  her  shy,  gentle 
efforts  to  win  him  back  to  something  like  the 
old  friendliness,  which  had  existed  between  them 
before  they  had  become  engaged  to  be  married. 
It  was  this  which  she  longed  to  have  restored, 
with  her  craving  for  affection  and  her  dread  of 
hard  feeling.  But  despairing  at  last,  she  arose 
with  a  sigh  and  went  to  the  hearth,  and  began 
talking  to  the  two  old  ladies,  who  left  off  quarrel- 
ling when  she  came,  as  they  nearly  always  did. 
From  the  hearth  she  turned  to  the  supper-table, 
to  give  it  the  delicate  finishing  touches,  and  then 
there  was  a  general  movement  as  the  family 
settled  into  their  places. 

It  seemed  to  David  that  the  meal  would  never 
end,  that  he  should  never  be  able  to  tell  Ruth. 
As  he  sat  looking  down  at  his  untasted  food,  and 
had  time  to  think,  he  came  gradually  to  under- 
stand something  of  the  meaning  of  the  young 
doctor's  sudden  agitation,  his  solemn  message,  and 
his  hurried  departure.  The  boy  could  not  keep 
his  distress  out  of  his  face,  and  Ruth  saw  it  in 
her  first  glance  at  him  across  the  table.  In  the 
shadows  of  the  room  she  had  not  seen  him  dis- 
tinctly until  now,  and  the  sight  of  his  trouble 
touched  her  as  it  never  failed  to  do  even  when 
she  believed  it  to  be  imaginary.  As  soon  as  pos- 
sible she  left  the  table  and  went  to  the  door, 
glancing  at  him  over  her  shoulder.  He  followed 
instantly  and,  passing  her  swiftly  as  she  stood 
in  the  doorway,  he  beckoned  her  to  come  outside. 


254  BOUND   ANVIL   BOCK 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  she  asked,  running  to  him. 

She  grasped  his  arm  and  turned  white  and 
began  to  tremble,  not  knowing  what  she  feared. 
There  was  something  in  his  look,  and  something 
in  her  own  heart,  which  told  her  that  this  was 
no  boyish  whim  or  fancy,  such  as  she  was  often 
called  to  comfort  and  beguile  for  him.  She 
could  not  see  his  face  distinctly  enough  to  gather 
anything  from  looking  at  him  ;  they  were  stand- 
ing beyond  the  broad  band  of  light  streaming 
from  the  open  door.  But  there  was  no  need 
for  sight ;  he  poured  out  the  story  almost  in  a 
breath,  ending  with  Paul's  message  to  her.  And 
she  understood  more  than  he  had  said,  far  more 
than  he  could  ever  say  or  understand,  before  the 
words  had  fairly  left  his  lips.  The  divination 
of  a  woman's  love  —  that  marvellous  white  light 
—  flashed  the  whole  truth,  and  she  uttered  a 
smothered  cry  as  she  saw  it.  So  crying  out, 
she  shrank  away  from  him,  and  threw  off  his 
hand  and  struck  at  him  fiercely,  like  some  soft 
little  wild  thing  suddenly  hurt. 

"  How  could  you  ?  Why  did  you  tell  him  ?  " 
she  cried.  "  I  hate  you.  I'll  hate  you  for  this 
as  long  as  I  live.  You  have  sent  him  to  his 
death  —  you  meddler,  you  simpleton  !  And  you 
don't  even  know  what  you  have  done.  You 
have  sent  him  to  his  death,  I  tell  you !  Yes, 
that's  what  you  have  done,  and  I  will  never  for- 
give you  while  I  breathe.  He  has  gone  to  warn 
the  attorney-general,  and  he  will  be  killed,  too. 


THE   GENTLEST  ARE   THE  BRAVEST       255 

You  heard  what  uncle  said   about  the   danger. 

What  are  the  robbers  or  the  country  to  me 

beside  him?  What  do  I  care  about  what 
happens  to  the  attorney-general  ?  I  wouldn't 
care  if  every  other  man  in  the  world  was  lying 
dead,  this  minute,  if  I  could  know  that  he  was 
safe.  Oh!  Oh!  And  you  knew  that  he  and 
the  attorney-general  were  friends.  You  knew  he 
would  go  to  help  him.  And  yet  you  told  him 

—  and  he  is  gone  —  " 

She  broke  into  a  helpless  passion  of  weeping 
so  pitiful  that  the  boy  could  do  nothing  but  go 
to  her  and  take  her  in  his  arms.  She  did  not 
resist;  her  anger  was  instantly  melted  in  grief. 
Her  arms  went  round  his  neck,  and  she  sobbingly 
implored  his  pardon. 

"  Forgive    me  —  forgive    me.     I  didn't  know 

—  I  don't  know  what   I  am  saying.     Oh  !  my 
heart  is  breaking,  David  !     Help  me  —  help  me 
to  think  !     We  must  do  something  —  we  mustn't 
stand   here  crying   like   this.     Think !     Think ! 
Help  me  to  think  what  we  can  do." 

She  pushed  him  away  and  stood  pressing  her 
trembling  hands  hard  against  her  temples,  trying 
desperately  to  clear  her  thoughts.  The  thought 
of  calling  on  any  one  in  the  house  did  not  cross 
her  mind.  There  was  nothing  to  expect  from 
the  judge;  he  had  fallen  asleep  in  his  chair  at 
the  table.  William  Pressley  would  not  believe 
there  was  any  danger.  He  never  believed  in  any 
trouble  or  agitation.  It  would  only  annoy  him. 


256  ROUND  ANVIL   ROOK 

Indeed,  she  scarcely  thought  of  him  at  all.  She 
caught  the  boy's  arm  wildly,  with  her  tears  sud- 
denly dried. 

"  Why  don't  you  say  something  —  do  some- 
thing ! "  she  cried  bitterly.  "  You  are  no  better 
than  a  girl  yourself." 

She  turned  toward  the  house  and  ran  a  few 
steps  only  to  come  flying  back. 

« I  have  thought  of  something  —  you  must  go 
after  him !  That's  what  you  must  do !  He 
may  be  wounded.  He  may  need  you  to  help 
him.  Surely  you  could  fight  if  you  tried.'  I 
could,  myself !  And  you  will  try,  dear,  I  know 
you  will,  for  my  sake.  Come !  Run !  Run ! 
Let's  go  to  the  stable  and  get  the  pony.  He 
goes  fast." 

Her  passionate  excitement  swept  them  along, 
and  she  and  the  boy  were  now  running  toward  the 
stable,  hand  in  hand,  hardly  knowing  what  they 
did.  Her  head  was  bare,  her  white  dress  and 
her  delicate  slippers  were  very  thin,  and  the  chill 
of  the  autumnal  night  was  already  coming  on. 
But  she  thought  of  none  of  these  things,  felt 
none  of  them,  and  did  not  stop  at  the  door  of 
the  stable,  although  she  had  never  entered  it 
before,  and  it  was  now  very  dark  within.  But 
there  was  nothing  for  her  to  fear,  she  knew  all 
about  the  horses,  as  every  girl  of  the  country 
did,  since  riding  was  a  part  of  the  life  of  the 
wilderness.  Keeping  close  to  David's  side,  she 
followed  him  to  the  pony's  stall,  and  when  she 


THE  GENTLEST  ARE  THE  BRAVEST       257 

heard  him  take  down  the  saddle  and  bridle 
that  hung  overhead,  her  hands  eagerly  went 
out  in  the  darkness  to  help  him  buckle  the 
girth. 

"  There  1  You  will  ride  as  fast  as  you  can 

I  know  you  will.  And  you  will  help  him  fight 
Make  haste.  Why  didn't  we  think  to  get  your 
rifle  ?  Oh,  why  !  You  are  very  slow.  There ! 
Isn't  it  ready  ?  " 

But  as  the  boy  started  to  lead  the  pony  from 
the  stable,  a  sudden  thought  flashed  through  her 
mind,  and  she  acted  upon  it  as  quickly  as  she 
grasped  it. 

"  Let  me  have  the  pony,"  she  gasped.  «  You 
can  get  one  of  the  other  horses  for  yourself. 
Make  haste !  I  must  have  the  pony  because  he 
is  all  ready.  Hurry !  Hurry !  I  have  just 
thought  —  uncle  Philip  will  help  us.  He  can 
do  anything.  He  will  do  anything  in  the  world 
for  me  if  I  can  only  reach  him.  He  is  nearly 
always  coming  to  Cedar  House  about  this  time. 
I  am  going  to  meet  him.  Everything  will  be 
safe  and  right  if  I  can  find  him  and  tell  him. 
Help  me  up  to  the  saddle,  quick !  quick ! " 

They  were  now  out  of  the  stable  and  could 
see  each  other  dimly.  He  exclaimed  in  affright, 
grasping  her  skirt  and  holding  her  back  when 
she  attempted  to  mount. 

"  It's  my  saddle,  too,  you  couldn't  ride  that ! " 
he  cried. 

"What  difference  does  the  saddle  make?     I 


258  ROUND   ANVIL  ROCK 

have  ridden  it  many  a  time  —  and  many  a  time 
without  any.  If  you  will  not  —  " 

She  caught  the  pommel,  and  he,  seeing  how 
utterly  useless  it  was  to  contend  further,  now 
held  out  his  hand  and  she  set  her  foot  in  his 
palm.  With  a  leap  and  a  swift,  lithe  turn 
of  one  knee  under  the  other  she  was  seated 
in  his  saddle  as  easily  and  firmly  as  if  it  had 
been  her  own,  and  grasped  the  reins. 

"  Follow  as  quickly  as  you  can,"  she  called 
back  over  her  shoulder.  "  I  am  going  to  meet 
uncle  Philip  in  the  buffalo  path  beyond  Anvil 
Rock." 

And  then  the  pony  sprang  away  and  was  run- 
ning into  the  falling  night. 


XIX 

UNDER    THE    HUNTER'S    MOON 

IT  was  not  very  dark,  and  all  the  cleared  coun- 
try rolling  widely  away  from  Cedar  House  could 
be  dimly  seen.  A  gusty  wind  was  driving  wild 
clouds  across  the  stars,  and  tall  cloud  mountains 
rose  on  the  north  covering  the  great  comet ;  but 
higher  in  the  dark  blue  dome  of  the  firmament 
the  Hunter's  Moon  swung  full  and  free,  casting 
its  wonderful  crystalline  light  over  the  darkened 
earth. 

This  most  marvellous  of  crystal  lamps  always 
appears  to  be  shining  by  its  own  living  radiance, 
and  never  to  be  beaming  by  the  merely  reflected 
glory  that  gilds  the  lifeless  Harvest  Moon.  The 
Hunter's  Moon  has  indeed  no  rival  among  all  the 
lights  which  heaven  lends  to  the  world  of  night. 
It  is  the  whitest,  the  brightest,  the  most  sparkling 
that  ever  falls  on  the  darkness,  and  it  was  in 
truth  the  hunter's  very  own.  By  its  light  he 
could  see  how  to  go  on  with  his  hunt  hours  after 
the  close  of  the  short  November  days,  and  far 
into  the  long  November  nights,  and  still  find  his 
way  home  through  the  deep  heart  of  the  mighty 
wood. 

259 


260  ROUND   ANVIL   ROCK 

So  that  even  on  this  dreary  November  night, 
when  its  clearness  was  dimmed  by  the  flight  of 
the  wind-hunted  clouds,  it  was  able  to  lighten  in 
a  measure  the  furthest  and  darkest  reaches  of 
this  wild  new  world.  It  touched  the  mystery 
of  the  burial  mound  ;  it  lifted  the  misty  winding 
sheet  spread  by  the  swamp ;  it  raised  the  pall 
laid  along  the  horizon  by  the  sable  tops  of  the 
cypress  trees ;  it  reached  almost  to  the  darkness 
hanging  over  Duff's  Fort  —  that  awful  and  mys- 
terious blackness — which  the  noon-day  sun  could 
never  wholly  remove. 

But  the  girl's  gaze  was  not  following  the  moon- 
beams. Looking  neither  to  the  one  side  nor  the 
other,  she  gave  a  single  glance  ahead.  This  was 
only  to  see  that  she  was  going  straight  toward 
Anvil  Rock  by  the  shortest  road.  And  the  one 
look  was  enough  for  she  knew  that  the  great 
shadowy  mass  glooming  in  the  dark  distance  must 
be  what  she  sought.  And  then  bending  forward 
and  low  over  the  pony's  neck,  she  sent  him 
onward  by  an  unconscious  movement  of  her 
own  body.  She  had  known  how  to  ride  almost 
as  long  as  she  had  known  how  to  walk  —  the  one 
was  an  easy  and  as  natural  as  the  other.  Instinc- 
tively she  now  bent  still  lower,  and  still  farther 
forward  over  the  pony's  neck,  as  a  boy  does  in 
riding  a  race ;  for  she  also  was  riding  a  great 
race,  and  for  the  greatest  of  stakes.  She  did  not 
stop  to  think  how  great  the  stake  was ;  she  had 
not  yet  realized  that  it  was  the  life  of  the  man 


J 


For  she  also  was  riding  a  great  race." 


UNDER  THE   HUNTER'S  MOON  261 

she  loved ;  she  had  not  yet  had  time  to  face  the 
truth,  and  to  know  that  she  loved  Paul  Colbert. 
She  only  realized  that  she  must  reach  Anvil  Rock 
before  Philip  Alston  could  pass  it  on  his  way 
to  Cedar  House,  or  turn  into  another  path.  Rais- 
ing her  head,  she  flashed  another  look  into  the 
dark  distance,  where  the  goal  was  and  grew  sick 
with  fear,  seeing  how  far  off  it  was.  And  then 
rallying,  she  began  to  use  her  voice  as  well  as 
the  reins,  to  urge  the  pony  to  greater  speed. 
"  That's  it !  Good  boy.  But  faster  —  faster ! " 
Thus  crying  she  silently  prayed  that  Philip 
Alston  might  be  within  hearing  of  the  sound 
of  her  voice.  She  never  doubted  that  he  would 
come  at  her  first  cry.  It  never  once  crossed  her 
mind  that  he  could  hesitate  to  do  what  she 
wished  in  this.  He  had  never  in  all  her  life  refused 
her  anything,  and  she  knew  of  no  reason  to  fear 
refusal  now.  The  only  fear  that  she  felt  was 
the  dread  of  reaching  Anvil  Rock  too  late.  She 
tried  to  still  the  quivering  of  her  nerves  by  re- 
minding herself  that  he  nearly  always  came  to 
Cedar  House  at  this  hour,  if  he  had  not  been 
there  earlier  in  the  day.  But  she  could  not  help 
remembering  that  there  were  times  when  he  did 
not  come.  If  he  should  not  be  on  the  way 
now,  if  she  should  fail  to  meet  him,  if  he  should 
be  still  at  his  far-off  home,  or  have  gone  else- 
where —  But  she  threw  the  paralyzing  thought 
from  her  and  suddenly  began  to  strike  the  pony 
again  and  again,  with  her  soft  little  open  hands. 


262  ROUND  ANVIL   ROCK 

"  Faster !  You  must  go  faster  —  you  must ! 
Surely  you  can.  Please !  It  isn't  very  far. 
We  must  be  almost  there ! " 

It  would  have  been  hard  to  tell  whether  the 
short,  sharp  strokes  were  blows  or  caresses,  and 
they  ceased  almost  as  abruptly  as  they  had  begun. 
She  was  now  nearly  lying  across  his  straining 
shoulders,  and  her  soft,  bare  arms  were  around 
his  rough,  shaggy  neck.  She  did  not  know 
what  she  was  doing,  the  boy  had  taught  her  to 
ride  so  —  barebacked  in  the  fields  —  when  she 
was  a  child.  And  she  did  not  know  that  the 
pony's  mane  was  wet  with  her  tears.  There 
was  no  sound  of  weeping  or  faltering  in  the  tone 
with  which  she  urged  him  on.  That  rang  clear 
and  strong  with  the  invincible  courage  and 
strength  which  love's  miracle  gives  to  the  most 
timid  and  the  weakest. 

She  was  not  holding  to  the  saddle,  but  was  cling- 
ing to  it  as  unconsciously  as  the  mist  clung  to  her 
skirts.  Her  long  black  hair,  fallen  away  from  its 
fastenings,  streamed  in  the  wind ;  but  she  gave  it  no 
heed  except  to  toss  it  out  of  her  eyes  so  that  she 
might  see  the  pony's  head,  and  try  to  look  beyond 
toward  Anvil  Rock.  How  far  off  it  still  seemed  ! 
Would  she  never  reach  it  ?  The  night  seemed  to 
be  growing  darker,  and  she  could  not  make  out 
the  mass  glooming  through  the  darkness  as  she 
had  seen  it  at  first.  But  she  was  not  afraid  of 
the  growing  blackness.  This  timid,  gentle  girl, 
who  had  hitherto  been  afraid  of  her  own  shadow, 


UNDER   THE   HUNTER'S   MOON  263 

was  now  suddenly  lost  to  all  sense  of  fear.  She 
thought  nothing  of  the  wild  darkness  into  which 
she  was  thus  flying  blindly  and  alone.  She  had 
forgotten  the  terror  of  the  time,  and  the  dangers 
of  the  wilderness.  She  was  oblivious  of  the  utter 
silence,  which  wrapped  the  region  in  awful  mys- 
tery. She  heard  nothing  but  the  rush  of  the 
pony's  running  feet,  and  felt  nothing  but  the 
leaping  of  her  own  heart.  Her  only  thought  was 
to  reach  the  goal  in  time  ;  her  only  fear  was  that 
she  might  fail. 

Her  ceaseless  cry  was  goading  the  brave  little 
beast  like  a  spur.  He  still  leapt  in  response  to 
it ;  but  his  every  sinew  was  already  strained  to 
breaking,  and  he  was  nearing  the  end  of  his  en- 
durance. The  night  had  now  become  so  dark  that 
neither  the  pony  nor  the  girl  could  see  whither 
they  were  speeding.  And  then  suddenly  the 
Hunter's  Moon  broke  the  frail  bars  of  its  cloud 
prison,  and  was  again  free  to  cast  its  full  splendor 
over  the  blackness.  Under  this  sudden  burst  of 
light,  Anvil  Rock  leapt  out  of  the  shadows  — 
vague,  black,  huge,  terrible  —  and  she  uttered  a  cry 
startled  and  relieved  at  seeing  it  so  near  by,  when 
she  had  thought  it  much  farther  off.  But  as  she 
looked  again  to  make  sure  that  it  was  real,  and 
not  some  delusion  of  the  mist,  the  first  pang  of 
fear  struck  back  her  leaping  heart.  She  drew 
up  the  panting,  staggering  pony  with  a  convul- 
sive clutch  on  the  reins  —  and  waited,  trembling 
and  scarcely  daring  to  breathe.  Some  large  dark 


264  ROUND   ANVIL   ROOK 

form  moved  among  the  shadows  around  the  base 
of  Anvil  Rock. 

Another  swirl  of  the  shrieking  wind  sent  the 
fugitive  clouds  flying  again  across  the  white  face 
of  the  moon.  But  only  for  an  instant,  and  once 
more  the  darkness  fled  before  the  light  of  the 
crystal  lamp.  Yet  its  bright  beams  could  not 
pierce  the  thick  gloom  which  hung  heaviest  at 
the  foot  of  the  dark  mass.  Something  still  stood 
there,  large,  shadowy,  and  motionless.  Ruth's 
trembling  hand  unconsciously  went  up  and 
threw  back  the  wildly  blown  hair  which  obscured 
her  vision.  As  the  white  moonlight  thus  fell  full 
on  her  face,  the  dark  shape  instantly  sprang  out 
of  the  gloom,  and  she  recognized  Paul  Colbert 
almost  as  soon  as  he  saw  her. 

Neither  uttered  a  cry  of  surprise  or  even  of 
relief,  for  neither  felt  any  strangeness  in  this 
most  strange  meeting.  When  two  hearts  and 
two  souls  and  two  spirits  have  rushed  together 
at  the  first  meeting  of  the  eyes,  —  as  these  two 
had,  —  no  separation  of  mere  flesh  and  blood  can 
ever  again  really  keep  them  apart.  These  two 
were  now  only  facing  outwardly  the  images 
which  they  constantly  bore  within  their  breasts. 
He  had  been  thinking  more  of  her  through  that 
wild  ride  than  of  the  friend  whose  life  he  was 
perilling  his  own  to  save.  She  had  felt  his  pres- 
ence at  her  side  with  every  step  of  the  pony's 
flying  feet ;  it  was  merely  his  body  which  she  was 
striving  to  find  and  shield  from  harm.  So  that 


UNDER   THE   HUNTER'S   MOON  265 

when  they  thus  suddenly  came  face  to  face  in  the 
moonlight  there  was  no  need  for  a  cry  or  a  word. 
He  sprang  from  his  horse  and  leapt  to  the  pony's 

side  ;  and  she  —  as  silently  and  as  naturally 

held  out  her  arms  to  meet  his  embrace. 

But  they  started  apart  before  touching  one 
another.  The  distant  sound  of  horses'  beating 
hoofs  came  with  a  gust  of  wind.  It  was  borne 
from  the  direction  of  Duff's  Fort,  and  out  from 
among  the  dark  trees  there  now  rushed  into  the 
misty  moonlight  a  score  or  more  of  dim  shapes, 
vague  and  terrible  as  phantom  horsemen.  Nearer 
and  nearer  these  came  rushing  through  the 
wavering  mists,  with  scarcely  a  sound  after 
that  first  warning  roar  brought  by  the  wind. 
Paul  sprang  to  regain  his  horse,  but  the  animal 
was  startled  by  the  suddenness  of  the  attempt, 
and  frightened  by  the  rapid  approach  of  the  other 
horses,  so  that  he  jerked  the  bridle  from  his 
master's  grasp  and  reared  beyond  the  reach  of  his 
hand.  There  was  no  time  to  pursue  the  horse ; 
worse  still,  there  was  no  chance  to  seize  the  rifle 
which  hung  from  the  pommel  of  the  saddle.  Paul 
had  only  one  other  weapon,  the  long  hunting- 
knife  carried  by  all  the  men  of  the  wilderness. 
He  drew  this  from  his  belt  and  it  flashed  in  the 
moonlight  as  he  ran  back  to  the  pony's  head  and 
stood  between  Ruth  and  the  dimly  visible  danger 
which  was  rapidly  approaching. 

"They  are  coming  the  other  way,  too,"  she 
gasped.  "  I  hear  them  behind  us." 


266  ROUND  ANVIL   ROCK 

He  did  not  reply  and  could  not  turn.  She  said 
nothing  more  and  began  sending  up  silent 
prayers.  They  could  no  longer  see  even  dimly, 
for  thick  clouds  again  covered  the  moon.  But 
she  heard  a  fearful  clash  in  the  darkness,  and 
then  there  followed  those  awful  muffled  sounds 
which  are  heard  when  men  close  silently  in 
mortal  combat.  There  was  no  sharp  sound  of 
firing  —  only  the  hideous  thud  of  furious  flesh 
against  furious  flesh  —  the  one  sound  that  the 
bravest  woman  cannot  hear  in  silence.  Ruth's 
cry  for  help  pierced  the  very  heavens.  Again  and 
again  her  anguished  appeal  rang  through  the  night. 
In  the  height  of  her  frenzied  fear  she  heard  the 
galloping  of  a  horse  and  knew  that  it  was  com- 
ing nearer.  This  must  be  Philip  Alston.  The 
flash  of  the  thought  brought  a  gleam  of  hope  and 
sent  her  louder  cry  farther  into  the  darkness. 

"  Uncle  Philip,  for  God's  sake,  come  to  me ! 
Quick  !  quick  !  It's  Ruth  —  uncle  Philip  !  Philip 
Alston ! " 

Instantly  all  was  still.  The  invisible  conflict 
which  had  been  waging  with  such  fury  so  near  by, 
now  ceased  as  suddenly  and  as  completely  as  if 
it  had  been  ended  by  an  unseen  lightning  stroke. 
The  assailants  silently  drew  back  and  stood 
motionless;  but  Ruth  could  not  see  what  was 
taking  place,  and  this  sudden,  strange  stillness 
falling  upon  utter  darkness  filled  her  with  greater 
terror.  She  thought  that  Paul  had  been  killed. 
Alive,  he  would  not  leave  her  alone  like  this. 


UNDER  THE   HUNTER'S   MOON  267 

Not  for  an  instant  would  he  forget  her  if  he 
had  strength  to  creep  to  her  side.  He  was  dead. 
He  would  never  let  these  torturing  moments 
pass  without  speaking  to  her  if  he  had  breath 
to  speak. 

"  Uncle  Philip !  Philip  Alston ! "  she  cried  again 
and  again.  "  Don't  you  know  me  ?  It's  Ruth." 

"Here,  I'm  coming!"  a  man's  voice  shouted 
out  of  the  distance.  "  Where  are  you  ?  Speak 
again.  Let  me  find  you  by  the  sound." 

"  They  have  killed  him  ! "  she  shrieked.  « I 
can't  find  him  in  the  dark." 

She  was  out  of  the  saddle  now,  bending  down 
and  groping  with  her  shaking,  tender  little  hands 
on  the  torn  and  trampled  earth.  A  wilder  gust 
of  wind  brought  the  beat  of  rapidly  retreating 
hoofs  to  her  strained  ears.  She  sprang  up  with 
a  new  fear  and  cried  it  aloud  high  and  far  above 
the  shriek  of  the  wind. 

"  They  are  taking  him  away  !  Will  you  never 
come  ?  Is  it  you  —  uncle  Philip  ?  Oh  —  why  — 
don't  you  come  to  me  ?  It's  Ruth." 

"  It  is  I  —  Father  Orin,"  said  the  priest  near  by. 

She  did  not  reply,  nor  even  glance  at  him, 
although  the  cloud  curtain  was  now  suddenly 
lifted  again,  and  she  could  see  clearly.  She  did 
not  notice  that  all  the  horsemen  had  vanished. 
She  saw  only  the  motionless  form  of  the  man 
she  loved  lying  some  distance  away.  It  was 
plain  that  he  had  pressed  the  assassins  as  far 
from  her  as  he  could  ;  that  his  outstretched  arms 


268  ROUND    ANVIL   ROCK 

had  fallen  in  some  supreme  effort.  The  hunting- 
knife  glittered  in  the  moonlight  at  a  distance 
from  his  hand.  He  must  have  fought  on  with 
his  bare  hands  after  his  only  weapon  had  been 
struck  from  his  grasp.  His  eyes  were  closed, 
and  his  face  was  like  the  face  of  the  dead. 

Ruth,  dropping  to  the  earth  beside  him,  had 
taken  his  head  on  her  lap  before  the  priest  could 
come  up  and  dismount.  She  did  not  reply,  nor 
even  hear  his  alarmed  questioning. 

"  See  if  he  is  living,  Father,"  she  said.  "  Here, 
put  your  hand  on  his  heart  —  here  —  where  my 
hand  is.  Make  haste.  Why  are  you  so  slow  ?  " 
Then  flashing  round  on  him  in  her  impetuous 
way :  "  Why  don't  you  say  that  you  feel  his 
heart  beat  ?  Of  course  you  do  !  Of  course  he  is 
alive.  How  could  he  be  dead  —  in  a  moment  — 
a  flash  —  like  this !  He  is  so  young.  He  has  only 
begun  to  live.  And  so  strong  and  brave.  Oh,  so 
brave,  Father !  Dear  Father  Orin  —  if  you  could 
have  seen  how  fearlessly  he  stood,  between  them 
and  me  —  waiting  for  them  to  come  !  Only  one, 
too,  against  so  many.  But  I  wasn't  afraid  while 
I  could  see  him.  No,  not  for  a  moment,  even 
against  them  all.  And  then  when  it  was  dark, 
and  I  couldn't  see  him,  and  I  could  only  hear  —  " 
she  broke  down,  shuddering  and  weeping. 

While  she  spoke  the  priest  had  been  unfasten- 
ing Paul's  collar  and  was  trying  to  find  the 
wound.  The  bosom  of  his  shirt  was  already 
darkly  dyed  with  blood. 


UNDER  THE  HUNTER'S  MOON  269 

"  He  is  alive ;  his  heart  is  still  beating,"  said 
Father  Orin,  huskily. 

This  daring,  gifted  young  doctor  had  come  to 
be  like  his  own  son  in  their  work  together  for 
the  suffering.  He  turned  back  his  coat  and  found 
the  deep  knife-wound  in  his  shoulder,  and  set 
about  stanching  the  flow  of  blood  with  the 
simple  knowledge  of  surgery  that  the  life  of  the 
wilderness  taught  to  all.  But  it  was  Ruth  who 
thought  of  Paul's  medical  case  which  always 
hung  on  his  saddle.  The  horse  was  gone,  but  the 
case  was  lying  not  far  away,  on  the  ground  where 
it  had  fallen,  and  there  were  bandages  and  lint  in 
it,  as  she  hoped  there  would  be.  But  when  they 
had  done  all  that  they  could,  he  still  lay  motion- 
less and  barely  breathing.  She  dropped  down 
beside  him  in  fresh  alarm,  and  again  took  his 
head  on  her  lap.  Father  Orin  stood  up,  looking 
helplessly  through  the  moonlight  and  murmur- 
ing something  about  getting  the  doctor  back  to 
his  cabin. 

"We  will  take  him  to  Cedar  House,"  she 
said.  "  There  is  no  one  to  nurse  him  in  his  own 
cabin.  Oh  ! "  with  a  smothered  scream.  "  They 
are  coming  back  ! " 

She  could  not  suppress  that  one  cry  of  fright 
which  burst  from  her  lips.  But  there  was  only 
one,  she  stilled  the  others  and  tried  at  once  to 
control  the  trembling  of  her  knees  under  his  head. 
The  dove  will  sit  still  when  a  cruel  hand  comes 
close  to  her  nest ;  but  no  living  creature  has  the 


270  ROUND    ANVIL   ROCK 

courage  of  the  gentlest  woman  when  the  man  she 
loves  is  helpless  —  through  no  lack  of  strength  or 
courage  in  himself  —  and  in  danger.  The  things 
which  timid  women  have  done  then,  stand  among 
the  bravest  that  have  ever  been  set  down  to  the 
credit  of  humanity.  Believing  that  some  hide- 
ous, unknown  peril  was  sweeping  upon  them,  this 
mere  slip  of  a  girl  now  bent  quietly  over  the 
prone  head  and  spoke  close  to  the  deaf  ear  with- 
out thinking  whether  or  not  it  could  hear. 

"  There,  dear  heart,  there  !  Never  mind.  All 
is  well.  Lie  still,  or  your  wound  will  bleed. 
We  are  here,  Father  Orin  and  I.  We  will  take 
care  of  you.  Only  lie  still." 

Two  horsemen  were  now  in  sight  and  they 
were  spurring  straight  toward  Anvil  Rock. 
While  they  were  yet  a  long  way  off,  Ruth  felt, 
rather  than  saw,  that  one  of  them  was  David. 
She  told  the  priest  who  it  was,  and  they  both 
knew  that  only  a  friend  could  be  coming  with 
the  boy.  Her  whole  form  relaxed  under  the 
relief.  If  Paul  could  but  open  his  eyes,  if  his 
breath  would  but  come  a  little  more  quickly,  and 
a  little  less  faintly  !  Her  tears  were  falling  on 
his  still,  white  face,  now  that  there  was  no 
further  need  for  self-control  or  courage.  She 
steadied  her  voice,  and  told  the  story  as  clearly 
as  she  could,  when  Father  Orin  asked  again  how 
she  came  to  be  in  such  a  place,  and  what  it  was 
that  had  led  to  the  wounding  of  Paul  Colbert. 

While  she  was  speaking  the  horsemen  reached 


UNDER   THE   HUNTER'S   MOON  271 

them,  and  they  saw  that  the  man  with  David 
was  the  attorney -general.  He  hurriedly  knelt 
down  by  his  friend's  side.  He  did  not  ask  what 
had  happened.  He  had  already  gathered  much 
of  the  truth  from  what  the  boy  had  told  him. 
He  knew  that  Paul  Colbert  lay  there,  badly 
wounded,  dying  perhaps,  in  his  place.  He  was 
too  much  moved  at  first  to  speak. 

"  He  knew  that  I  was  coming  alone  over  this 
road  to-night.  He  suspected  a  plot  to  waylay 
me,  too  late  to  warn  me.  When  he  could  not  do 
that  he  came  to  share  the  danger.  It  was  like 
him,"  he  said  when  he  found  voice. 

He  took  the  nerveless  hand  and  held  it  a 
moment  in  silence,  and  then  he  laid  it  gently 
down  and  stood  up,  looking  about  through  the 
moonlight,  toward  the  cypress  swamp  and  Duff's 
Fort. 

"  But  why  did  the  scoundrels  run  away  before 
finishing  their  infamous  work  ?  And  where  is 
the  doctor's  horse  ?  Ah  !  They  have  stolen  that, 
of  course.  Which  way  did  they  go  ?  Did  you 
see  or  hear  them,  Father  ?  " 

"  No ;  Toby  and  I  were  too  far  off,"  the  priest 
replied.  "  We  were  coming  back  from  a  sick 
call.  It  was  too  dark  to  see.  The  first  and 
only  sound  I  heard  was  Ruth's  voice,  calling 
Philip  Alston's  name." 

« Oh !  —  I  begin  to  understand,"  said  the 
attorney-general. 

He  stopped  —  remembering — and  looked  down 


272  ROUND   ANVIL   ROCK 

at  Ruth.  She  had  not  heard  what  he  said. 
She  was  bending  closer  to  Paul's  white  face  and 
listening  to  his  laboring  breath. 

"  We  must  get  him  home  as  quickly  as  pos- 
sible," the  attorney-general  went  on.  "  My  duty 
at  Duff's  Fort  must  wait  on  this.  And  I  am  not 
sacrificing  the  state  to  a  friend,  or  to  gratitude. 
It  would  be  worse  than  useless  to  go  on  to-night, 
now  that  our  plans  are  betrayed.  I  am  very 
anxious  about  my  men.  They  should  be  here  be- 
fore now.  According  to  our  plans,  they  should 
have  been  within  hearing  of  the  first  sound  of 
trouble  and  ready  to  come  at  once.  I  am  afraid 
they,  too,  have  fallen  into  a  trap;  but  I  can't  do 
anything  now  for  them,  and  I  must  do  my  best 
for  this  poor  fellow,  and  quickly,  too.  Come, 
Father,  —  come,  David,  —  let  us  consult  as  to  the 
best  way  to  get  him  home." 

The  three  men  drew  a  little  apart  and  stood 
talking  together  in  a  low  tone,  so  that  Ruth  was 
left  for  a  moment  alone  with  Paul. 

"  Dear  heart !  "  she  breathed,  with  her  cheek 
against  his.  "  Listen,  love.  Can  you  hear  what 
I  say  ?  Try.  Try  hard.  For  if  you  can  hear, 
maybe  my  heart  will  not  break.  Listen,  then," 
as  softly  as  if  her  spirit  spoke  to  his.  "  Listen. 
I  am  yours  and  you  are  mine.  Can  you  hear  — 
dear  heart  ?  If  you  live  or  if  you  die  —  it  is  just 
the  same  —  always  —  to  me  and  to  you.  We 
belong  to  one  another  forever." 


XX 

BALANCING    LIFE    AND    DEATH 

WHILE  they  consulted,  several  of  the  attorney- 
general's  men  galloped  up.  They  had  been 
delayed  and  sent  astray  by  a  false  message  pur- 
porting to  come  from  him.  But  they  had  met 
with  no  harm  and  were  now  in  time  to  help  in 
lifting  the  wounded  man's  helpless  weight  into 
the  priest's  saddle.  This  was  the  best  plan  that 
could  be  devised  in  haste,  and  Father  Orin 
hastily  mounted  behind  the  unconscious  body, 
to  hold  it  in  place.  He  being  much  the  strong- 
est among  the  men,  the  duty  naturally  fell  to 
him.  It  was  also  natural  that  the  double  burden 
should  be  laid  upon  Toby,  because  the  heaviest 
burdens  of  life  are  always  laid  upon  those  who 
are  readiest  to  bear  them. 

And  Toby  appeared  to  feel  his  responsibility, 
for,  setting  out  at  a  rapid  pace,  which  seemed  to 
show  that  he  knew  the  need  of  haste,  he  yet 
moved  with  so  steady  a  step  that  Father  Orin 
did  not  require  the  aid  of  the  other  hands  which 
were  held  out  to  help  him.  Nevertheless,  every 
hand  was  constantly  in  readiness,  and  all  kept 
close  together ;  so  that  thus  moving  through  the 

T  273 


274  ROUND  ANVIL  ROCK 

dim  light,  the  shadowy  mounted  figures  looked 
like  some  fabulous  monster  of  gigantic  size  and 
with  many  arms,  all  extended  toward  a  common 
burden.  But  the  pony  kept  closest  to  Toby's 
side  and  in  the  gloom  that  followed  the  going 
down  of  the  Hunter's  Moon,  a  trembling  little 
hand  stole  out  now  and  then,  to  touch  the  still, 
cold  one  which  swung  so  pathetically  over 
Father  Grin's  strong  arm. 

The  stars  were  paling,  and  the  dark  east  was 
growing  wan,  when  Cedar  House  rose  at  last  out 
of  the  gray  shadows.  At  the  first  glimpse  of  it 
Ruth  suddenly  sent  the  pony  forward  and  urging 
him  to  a  run,  left  the  others  far  behind.  Reach- 
ing the  house,  she  leapt  to  the  ground  and  ran 
to  the  front  door.  It  was  deeply  in  shadow,  but 
she  did  not  need  sight  to  find  the  latch  string, 
which  she  had  played  with  as  a  child,  and  in 
another  instant  she  stood  in  the  great  dark 
room.  It  was  deserted  all  the  household  being 
asleep,  and  never  dreaming  that  she  also  was  not 
safely  in  bed.  The  fire  had  been  covered  as  it 
always  was  at  night,  but  it  blazed  when  she  stirred 
it,  and  by  the  light  of  the  flame  she  found  a  candle 
on  the  tall  mantelpiece.  Holding  this  to  the  blaze, 
it  seemed  to  her  as  if  it  would  never  catch  the 
flame.  When  the  wick  caught  she  went  running 
up  the  stairs  with  the  lighted  candle  in  her  hand, 
arousing  the  sleeping  household  by  repeated  calls. 
She  did  not  pause  to  answer  the  alarmed  cries  that 
came  in  response.  She  heard  a  scream  from  Miss 


BALANCING  LIFE  AND   DEATH  275 

Penelope's  room,  with  muffled  sounds  from  the 
widow  Broadnax's,  and  the  disapproving  tones 
of  William  Pressley's  voice.  But  she  was  utterly 
heedless  of  everything,  except  the  necessity  of  get- 
ting the  room  ready  in  time,  so  that  there  should 
be  no  waiting  before  doing  what  might  be  done. 
She  quivered  with  terror  to  think  how  long  tho 
delay  had  been  already.  The  servants  were  too 
far  away  to  be  summoned  quickly,  so  that  there 
was  only  herself  to  do  what  must  be  done,  and 
she  set  about  it  in  desperate  haste.  Hers  was 
the  only  chamber  that  could  be  given  him. 
Every  room  in  Cedar  House  was  occupied,  and 
it  was  always  her  room  which  was  given  to  a 
guest,  so  that  she  often  slept  on  a  couch  in  Miss 
Penelope's  chamber.  But  she  did  not  think  of 
that ;  there  was  no  thought  of  herself,  beyond 
wishing  to  give  him  her  own  room.  Had  there 
been  ever  so  many  guest  chambers,  she  would 
still  have  wished  him  to  have  hers.  But  to  get 
it  ready  in  time !  To  make  sure  that  there 
should  be  no  further  waiting  before  doing  all 
that  human  power  could  do.  Even  now  it 
might  be  too  late.  The  wood  fire  had  almost 
burned  out,  and  to  kindle  a  blaze  was  the  first 
thing  to  be  done,  so  that  she  ran  straight  to  the 
hearth  and  dropped  on  her  knees  beside  it. 
There  was  a  little  heap  of  sticks  in  the  chimney- 
corner,  but  her  hands  trembled  so  that  she  could 
hardly  put  them  on  the  dying  coals.  The  breath 
that  she  coaxed  the  flame  with  came  in  gasps. 


276  ROUND   ANVIL   ROCK 

but  a  blaze  quickly  sprang  up  and  leapt  among 
the  sticks,  and  then  she  flew  to  prepare  the  bed. 
If  she  might  only  get  it  ready  before  they  came ! 
The  thought  of  that  helpless  head  lying  against 
Father  Grin's  shoulder  was  like  a  stab  at  her 
heart. 

Footsteps  were  rushing  up  and  down  stairs, 
and  excited  voices  were  calling  her  name  all  over 
the  house,  but  she  did  not  pause  or  turn  from  her 
task.  It  was  Miss  Penelope  who  first  found  her 
and  clamored  to  know  what  had  happened ;  but 
she  did  not  stop  to  answer,  and  went  on  turn- 
ing back  the  covers  of  the  bed  —  the  last  thing 
needing  to  be  done  —  and  listening  for  the  sounds 
of  the  horses'  hoofs.  They  could  now  be  heard 
approaching  with  that  sad,  slow,  solemn  rhythm 
—  that  subdued  beat,  beat,  beat,  of  horses'  feet  — 
which  has  fallen  on  all  our  bruised  hearts  as  an 
awful  part  of  the  funeral  march.  She  ran  out 
of  the  room  and  downstairs,  drawing  her  skirt 
away  from  Miss  Penelope's  frightened  grasp,  and 
passing  William  Pressley,  as  if  his  restraining 
words  had  been  no  more  than  the  gusty  wind. 
She  was  waiting  outside  when  the  three  horsemen 
drew  up  at  the  door.  The  burden  which  they 
bore  was  still  apparently  lifeless,  and  with  a 
sickening  pang  of  fear  she  bent  over  the  parted 
lips  as  they  lowered  him  from  the  saddle,  think- 
ing for  one  despairing  moment  that  he  no  longer 
breathed.  But  the  faint  flutter  went  on,  and  she 
gave  way  so  that  he  might  be  borne  up  the  stairs, 


BALANCING  LIFE   AND  DEATH  277 

and  running  before,  she  told  them  where  to  lay 
him  down. 

William  Pressley  made  one  or  two  efforts  to 
direct  what  was  being  done,  and  although  the 
girl's  passionate  excitement  swept  him  aside,  he 
still  did  what  he  could,  and  offered  to  furnish  a 
fresh  horse  for  the  quicker  fetching  of  the  doctor, 
when  the  attorney-general  said  he  would  go  for 
him  at  once.  It  was  like  William  Pressley  to  do 
this ;  it  would  have  been  unlike  him  to  neglect 
any  duty  that  he  saw.  But  the  offering  of  the 
horse  and  the  full  performance  of  his  own  duty 
did  not  keep  him  from  looking  at  Ruth  in  severe 
displeasure.  He  did  not  yet  know  how  this 
thing  had  happened,  and  was  far  from  suspect- 
ing that  she  had  been  out  of  the  house  that  night. 
Yet  it  disturbed  and  angered  him  to  see  her  fly- 
ing here  and  there,  and  running  to  and  fro  to  get 
things  that  were  wanted,  as  though  the  ser- 
vants could  not  be  quick  enough.  With  all  this  in 
his  tone,  he  coldly  and  strongly  urged  her  to  join 
the  rest  of  the  family,  pointing  out  the  fact  that 
there  was  nothing  more  to  be  done  by  any  one 
till  the  doctor  should  come.  But  she  merely 
shook  her  head,  without  speaking,  and  slid  softly 
into  a  seat  by  the  bedside,  and  there  William 
Pressley  left  her,  disdaining  to  contend.  She 
thought  that  she  was  alone  —  so  far  as  she 
thought  of  herself  at  all  —  but  the  boy  sat  unseen 
and  forgotten  in  a  shadowed  corner  of  the  cham- 
ber. He  was  gazing  at  her,  but  her  gaze  never 


278  ROUND   ANVIL   ROCK 

once  wandered  from  the  still  white  face  on  the 
pillow. 

The  rest  of  the  family  were  gathered  around 
the  hearth  in  the  great  room  downstairs.  The 
judge  had  been  summoned  from  the  cabin  in 
which  he  slept,  and  he  was  now  plying  Father 
Orin  with  questions.  There  was  a  cry  of 
alarmed  amazement  when  the  priest  told  of  find- 
ing Ruth  at  Anvil  Rock.  Only  William  Pressley 
said  nothing,  and  sat  perfectly  still,  with  a  sud- 
den stiffening  of  his  bearing.  It  was  not  easy 
for  the  priest  to  make  the  whole  story  clear,  for 
he  did  not  understand  it  quite  clearly  himself, 
But  he  told  as  much  as  he  knew  of  the  night's 
events.  And  when  he  was  done,  the  judge's  voice 
stilled  the  clamor  of  the  other  excited  voices. 

"  How  can  the  child  have  known  what  was 
going  on  ?  Where  is  she  ?  We  must  find  out  at 
once  how  she  came  to  do  so  wild  and  strange  a 
thing.  What  under  heaven  could  she  have  been 
doing  there  —  in  such  a  place,  at  such  a  time  ? 
Where  is  she  ?  "  But  he  went  on  with  another 
thought,  without  waiting  for  an  answer.  "  How 
can  those  murderous  scoundrels  have  known  that 
the  attorney-general  would  ride  to  Anvil  Rock 
alone  ?  It  is  plain  enough  that  they  did  know. 
The  question  is  —  How?  By  what  means  can 
they  possibly  have  learned  anything  about  the 
plan  ?  That's  the  thing  !  How  did  they  find  out 
enough  to  enable  them  to  set  this  villanous  trap  ? 
All  those  assassins  hidden  there  in  the  darkness 


BALANCING  LIFE  AND   DEATH  279 

of  the  Cypress  Swamp,  waiting  to  spring  out  on 
one  man ! "  He  turned  suddenly  to  the  priest. 
"  What  is  your  opinion,  Father  ?  Have  you  the 
slightest  idea  how  they  could  have  learned  any- 
thing of  our  plan  ?  " 

Father  Orin  looked  straight  at  William  Pressley. 

"  Yes,  I  have  an  idea,"  he  said  quietly,  with 
his  gaze  still  fixed  on  the  young  lawyer.  "  But 
it  is  merely  unfounded  suspicion.  I  have  no 
real  reason  for  my  suspicions." 

"Well,  what  are  they?"  asked  the  judge, 
eagerly.  " You  can  hardly  be  afraid  of  doing 
any  injustice  to  those  scoundrels.  It  would  be 
hard  to  suspect  such  murderous  villains  of  any 
sneaking  treachery  that  they  wouldn't  be  guilty 
of  if  they  could.  How  do  you  think  they  found 
out  ?  That's  what  I  want  to  know." 

Father  Orin  was  still  looking  steadily  at 
William  Pressley,  who  returned  the  look  just  as 
steadily  with  one  that  was  easier  to  read  than 
the  priest's.  William  Pressley's  gaze  expressed 
a  large,  patient  tolerance  for  prejudice,  slightly 
touched  with  calm  contempt,  and  there  was  no 
doubting  its  entire  sincerity. 

"I  think,"  said  Father  Orin,  slowly,  "that 
these  banded  robbers  and  murderers  must  have 
learned  of  the  plan  through  some  one's  inadver- 
tence. It  is  my  opinion  that  the  plan  was  be- 
trayed by  some  one  who  did  not  mean  to  betray 
it,  and  who  may  not  have  known  what  he  had 
done." 


i>80  ROUND   ANVIL   ROCK 

William  Pressley  regarded  him  with  an  incredu- 
lous smile.  "  It  is  hardly  likely  that  the  plan 
can  have  been  revealed  in  any  such  way  as  you 
suggest,  sir,"  he  said,  with  the  politeness  which  is 
more  exasperating  than  rudeness.  "  You  are  cer- 
tainly overlooking  the  fact  that  only  a  few  knew 
what  the  attorney-general  intended  to  do,  and  that 
those  who  did  know  are  the  ablest  and  most 
reliable  men  in  the  country.  It  is  therefore  ut- 
terly out  of  the  question  to  assume  that  any  one 
among  them,  any  man  of  their  intelligence  and 
standing,  could  have  made  such  a  blunder.  Really, 
my  dear  sir,  if  you  will  pardon  my  saying  so, 
the  idea  is  absurd." 

The  priest  made  no  reply  and  his  eyes  were 
still  fixed  on  the  young  lawyer's  face,  but  as  he 
gazed,  the  expression  of  his  own  face  changed.  A 
half  smile  lighted  it  for  a  moment.  The  good 
man's  sense  of  humor  was  keen.  But  this  passed 
quickly  and  in  its  stead  there  came  the  compas- 
sion which  any  purely  human  weakness,  how- 
ever great  or  small,  always  awoke  in  his  truly 
compassionate  breast. 

The  judge  apparently  had  not  heard  what  his 
nephew  said.  He  always  began  to  feel  impatient  as 
soon  as  the  young  man  commenced  to  speak.  And 
he  now  gave  his  tousled  head  the  old,  unconscious 
toss,  like  a  horse  shaking  his  mane  at  the  lighting 
of  a  persistent  fly.  And  then,  paying  no  more  at- 
tention to  William  Pressley  and  drawing  his  chair 
nearer  Father  Grin's,  he  went  on  with  the  grave 


BALANCING  LIFE   AND  DEATH  281 

talk.  It  was  he,  however,  who  did  all  the  talking 
now ;  the  priest  had  suddenly  become  a  passive 
listener.  He  had  no  more  ideas  to  advance. 

The  three  men  turned  many  anxious  looks  on 
the  open  door.  It  was  still  a  framed  space  of  misty 
gray,  filled  only  with  the  melancholy  mystery  of 
the  wintry  dawn.  It  seemed  to  the  watchers 
to  stay  unchanged  for  a  long  time,  as  it  always 
does  to  those  who  watch  for  its  brightening  in 
trouble  and  anxiety.  Yet  while  they  longed 
for  the  light  they  dreaded  to  see  it,  as  the 
troubled  and  alarmed  always  dread,  lest  it  should 
reveal  something  terrible  which  the  darkness  has 
concealed.  Their  words  grew  fewer,  also,  under 
this  strain  of  waiting,  and  they  gradually  fell  into 
the  tone  that  night  watchers  use,  when  they  speak 
of  mysterious  things  under  the  gloomy  spell  of  this 
sad  half-light  which  is  neither  night  nor  day.  In 
the  silences  betwreen  their  hesitating  words,  they 
bent  forward  and  listened.  All  was  still  —  there 
was  no  distant  sound  of  the  attorney-general's  re- 
turn or  of  the  old  doctor's  coming.  In  the  tense 
stillness  they  could  hear  only  the  sad  murmur  of 
the  river  gliding  under  the  darkness  and — now  and 
then  —  the  sudden  hurrying  of  footsteps  in  the 
chamber  overhead  where  the  wounded  man  lay. 

And  so  a  long,  heavy  hour  dragged  by.  The 
leaden  gray  framed  by  the  doorway  began  to 
glimmer  with  a  silvery  pallor.  The  quicker 
breath  of  the  awakening  world  sent  a  heavier 
shower  of  leaves  from  the  trees.  The  birds  still 


282  BOUND   ANVIL   EOCK 

lingering  among  the  cold,  bare  branches  were 
already  awake,  and  calling  cheerily  to  one  an- 
other, as  if  the  higher  world  in  which  they  lived 
was  all  untouched  by  the  struggle  and  strife  of 
this  lower  human  world.  The  heavy-hearted 
men  in  the  great  room  of  Cedar  House  listened 
with  the  vague  wistfulness  that  the  happiness 
of  bird  voices  always  brings  to  the  troubled. 
They  also  heard  the  low  trumpeting  of  the 
swans  as  the  breath  of  the  morning  swayed 
the  rushes  and  that,  too,  filled  them  with 
a  deeper  longing  for  peace.  But  suddenly  the 
far-off  echo  of  a  horse's  rapid  approach  made 
them  forget  everything  else.  The  doctor  was 
coming  at  last !  As  one  man,  the  three  men 
sprang  to  open  the  door,  and  leapt  out  into  the 
pallid  daylight.  The  horseman  was  now  near  by 
and  in  another  moment  they  saw  that  the  rider 
was  not  the  doctor,  nor  yet  the  attorney-general, 
but  Philip  Alston. 

The  priest  shrank  back  with  an  uncontrollable 
recoil  and  then  stood  still  and  silent,  watching 
every  movement  of  the  tall  figure  which  had 
reined  up  and  was  dismounting  with  the  ease 
of  a  boy.  The  judge  and  his  nephew  had  made 
an  exclamation  at  the  sight  of  him ;  but  they 
were  merely  surprised  at  the  unusual  hour  of  his 
appearance  and  he  explained  this  at  once. 

"  Where  is  Ruth  ?  What  is  wrong  ?  Has 
anything  happened  ?  "  he  asked,  turning  in  visible 
agitation  from  one  to  another.  "What  was  it 


BALANCING   LIFE   AND   DEATH  283 

that  those  men  on  horseback  brought  here  ?  I 
could  barely  make  out  something  moving  this 
way.  Has  anything  happened  to  Ruth  ?  The 
light  was  dim,  and  I  was  a  long  way  off.  I  was 
coming  from  the  river  where  I  had  been  attend- 
ing to  the  loading  of  a  boat,  and  so  happened  to 
see  that  something  was  going  on.  But  I  wasn't 
near  enough  to  tell  what  it  was.  Of  course  I 
came  at  once  to  see  if  there  was  any  trouble, 
and  to  do  what  I  could.  Is  anything  wrong 
with  Ruth  ?  My  horse  fell  and  lamed  him- 
self, or  I  should  have  been  here  much  sooner. 
Tell  me  instantly  !  What  have  you  done  with 
the  child  ?  What  have  you  allowed  to  happen 
to  her?  By  God,  if  —  " 

He  demanded  this  accounting  in  a  tone  of 
passionate  fierceness  such  as  none  of  those 
present  had  ever  heard  in  him,  turning  first 
upon  William  Pressley  and  then  upon  Robert 
Knox.  His  face  was  white,  and  his  eyes  were 
blazing,  and  they  did  not  at  once  resume  their 
natural  look  when  he  had  been  assured  of  Ruth's 
safety.  But  he  said  nothing  more,  and  only 
Father  Orin  noted  how  altered  and  worn  and  old 
he  looked,  when  he  entered  the  room  and  the 
brighter  light  fell  upon  him. 

He  came  to  the  fireside  and  sat  down  with  the 
light  of  a  swinging  lamp  falling  full  on  his  face. 
His  clear  blue  eyes,  growing  quiet,  now  looked 
straight  into  Father  Grin's  —  which  were  openly 
searching  and  suspicious  —  during  the  second  tell- 


284  ROUND   ANVIL   ROCK 

ing  of  the  story  of  the  night.  It  was  not  easy 
for  suspicion  to  stand  against  such  a  gaze.  The 
priest's  wavered  in  spite  of  its  strength.  No  one 
could  believe  evil  of  Philip  Alston  while  looking 
in  his  noble,  open  face.  He  did  not  speak  imme- 
diately after  the  story  was  told.  When  he  did, 
it  was  to  say,  quietly  and  naturally,  precisely 
what  any  right-minded  man  would  have  said 
under  the  circumstances :  — 

"This  young  stranger  is  certainly  a  man  of 
courage.  He  has  protected  the  attorney-general 
at  the  risk  of  his  own  life.  In  doing  this,  he 
has  done  a  great  service  for  all  of  us  —  for  the 
wThole  country.  We  must  now  do  what  we  can 
for  him.  Is  he  badly  hurt  ?  Where  is  he  ? 
Who  is  with  him  ?  " 

The  priest  saw  that  he  flinched  for  the  first 
time  when  told  that  the  wounded  man  had  been 
taken  to  Ruth's  room. 

"  That  was  wrong,"  said  Philip  Alston,  with 
a  subtle  change  in  his  tone.  "  Ruth  must  have 
nothing  further  to  do  with  this  extraordinary 
and  most  unfortunate  affair.  She  has  had  far 
too  much  to  do  with  it  already.  That  mooning, 
foolish  boy  must  have  led  her  into  this  romantic 
folly  through  some  girlish  enthusiasm  about  Joe 
Daviess,  the  popular  hero  of  romance.  It  is 
plainly  the  boy's  fault  that  she  was  induced  to 
do  so  dangerous  and  unheard-of  a  thing.  She 
could  never  have  thought  of  it  herself.  I  shall 
see  that  he  keeps  his  place  hereafter.  We  must 


BALANCING   LIFE  AND   DEATH  285 

look  to  it,  William,"  turning  upon  the  young 
man  with  more  severity  than  his  voice  often 
expressed.  "  Where  is  she  ?  What  is  she  doing  ? 
I  wish  to  see  her." 

It  was  the  judge  who  told  him  that  she  was 
in  her  own  room,  together  with  the  older  ladies, 
all  in  attendance  upon  the  injured  man.  The 
priest  then  saw  the  second  swift  darkening  of 
Philip  Alston's  face. 

"  I  will  go  up  to  her  room,"  he  said  quietly. 
"  I  wish  to  be  sure  that  she  has  not  been 
harmed." 

As  he  rose,  there  was  a  sound  outside.  He 
turned  to  the  open  door  and  saw  two  horsemen 
approaching  at  a  gallop.  It  was  light  enough 
for  him  to  see  and  recognize  the  attorney-general 
and  the  doctor.  The  other  men  hurriedly  went 
out  to  meet  them.  Philip  Alston  stood  still  in 
a  shadowed  corner  of  the  great  room,  while  the 
rest  hastened  up  the  stairway  and  into  the 
chamber  where  Paul  Colbert  lay.  And  then  he 
followed  them  with  his  swift,  light  step,  and 
pausing  upon  the  threshold,  looked  into  the  open 
room,  his  gaze  first  seeking  Ruth.  She  stood  on 
the  other  side  of  the  chamber,  apart  from  the 
group  around  the  bed.  But  she  did  not  see 
him;  her  eyes  and  hands  and  thoughts  were  on 
the  bandages  which  she  was  hastily  preparing. 
He  shrank  from  what  she  was  doing  and  turn- 
ing hastily  away  fixed  his  eyes  on  the  attorney- 
general.  Thus,  silently  looking  and  listening,  he 


286  ROUND    ANVIL   ROCK 

presently  heard  him  say  how  deeply  he  regretted 
being  compelled  to  leave  the  country  before 
knowing  the  result  of  his  friend's  wound,  adding 
that  he  was  leaving  on  the  next  day  for  Tip- 
pecanoe.  Philip  Alston  barely  glanced  at  the 
white  face  lying  against  the  pillow.  He  was 
disturbed  and  even  shocked  to  see  it  there.  He 
felt  this  stranger's  presence  in  her  chamber  to  be 
a  desecration.  And  then  the  sight  of  suffering 
always  made  him  uncomfortable.  He  wondered 
how  she  could  endure  it.  The  repulsion  which 
the  average  man  feels  for  any  affliction  of  mind, 
body,  or  estate  was  so  intensified  in  him  that  he 
could  not,  with  all  his  intelligence,  understand 
that  the  very  sight  of  great  suffering  nobly  borne, 
does  much  to  win  a  woman's  heart. 


XXI 

THE  EAGLE  IN  THE  DOVE'S  NEST 

THE  worst  hurt  that  Paul  Colbert  had  received 
was  from  a  blow  on  the  head,  which  had  stunned 
and  nearly  killed  him.  But  there  had  been  no 
lasting  injury,  even  from  this,  and  the  knife- 
wound  in  his  shoulder  had  healed  rapidly ;  he 
was  young,  and  strong,  and  healthy. 

On  the  morning  of  the  seventh  day  he  awoke 
and  looked  at  Ruth.  He  was  feeling  almost  well, 
but  had  no  inclination  to  stir.  It  was  pleasant 
enough  just  to  lie  there  and  look  at  her,  and 
let  his  gaze  wander  around  her  chamber.  This 
white  shrine  of  maidenhood  !  He  had  felt  its  in- 
fluence before  he  was  able  to  understand,  and  the 
reverential  awe  had  grown  with  his  returning 
strength.  How  dainty  it  was,  for  all  its  rough 
board  floor  and  rude  log  walls  !  Even  those  were 
us  white  as  the  driven  snow.  The  bed  was  like  the 
warm,  soft  breast  of  a  snow-white  swan,  and  its 
drawn  curtains  like  folded  wings.  There  were 
spotless  muslin  curtains  over  the  windows,  and  the 
little  toilet  table  also  was  draped  in  white  and 
strewn  with  bits  of  carved  ivory.  The  whole  room 
showed  the  same  mingling  of  luxury  and  simplic- 
ity that  was  to  be  seen  in  the  great  room  below. 

287 


288  ROUND   ANVIL   ROCK 

These  fine  ivory  carvings,  the  rare  prints  and  a 
painting  or  two  on  the  rude  walls,  the  alabaster 
vase  on  the  rude  stand, — filled  with  fresh,  late- 
blooming  flowers,  —  the  costly  white  fur  rug  on 
the  floor,  the  delicate  work  basket  with  its  coquet- 
tish bows  of  riband,  contrasted  oddly  with  the 
other  simple  things  which  had  evidently  been 
made  in  the  wilderness  by  unskilled  hands.  Yet 
even  those  were  tasteful  and  all  painted  white, 
so  that  the  whole  was  purity,  beauty,  and  ex- 
quisiteness. 

Yet  his  gaze  quickly  turned  from  the  room  to 
her.  He  knew  that  she  believed  him  to  be 
asleep ;  but  it  was  so  pleasant  to  watch  her  that 
he  did  not  hasten  to  let  her  know  that  he  was 
awake.  She  was  very  busy  at  the  window,  with 
her  back  to  him,  and  deeply  absorbed  in  some- 
thing that  she  was  doing.  Moving  lightly  and 
swiftly  to  and  fro  across  the  light,  she  was  work- 
ing hard,  with  no  more  noise  than  the  sunbeams 
made  in  glancing  about  her  slender  form.  He  lay 
watching  her  for  some  time  in  dreamy  delight, 
before  he  saw  what  it  was  that  she  was  doing. 
But  presently  he  knew  that  she  was  making  an 
eeolian  harp.  The  two  fragile  bits  of  vibrant 
wood  to  hold  the  strings  were  already  in  place 
on  either  side  of  the  window,  just  where  the 
upper  and  lower  sash  came  together.  She  was 
now  engaged  in  carrying  the  threads  of  fine  silk 
floss,  which  were  to  form  the  strings  of  this  simple 
wind-harp,  from  one  piece  of  wood  to  the  other. 


r 


"She  was  making  an  aeolian  harp. 


THE   EAGLE  IN   THE  DOVE'S   NEST        289 

Back  and  forth  she  wove  them  across  the  current 
of  air,  moving  with  swift,  noiseless  motions  of  ex- 
quisite grace.  As  the  last  fine  fibre  thus  fell  into 
place  and  was  firmly  drawn,  a  soft,  musical  sigh 
breathed  through  the  shadowed  room,  the  very 
shadow  of  music's  sweet  self. 

"Thank  you,"  Paul  Colbert  said.  "What 
beautiful  things  you  think  of,  what  lovely  things 
you  do ! " 

She  turned  quickly  with  a  smile  and  a  blush, 
and  came  to  the  bedside. 

"  Why  —  you  were  not  to  wake  up  yet !  It's 
much  too  early  for  a  sick  man  to  open  his  eyes." 

"  But  I  am  not  a  sick  man  any  longer.  I  am 
almost  well.  I  could  get  up  now,  if  I  wished," 
jestingly,  «  I  am  getting  well  as  fast  as  I  can,  just 
to  convict  the  other  doctor  of  a  mistaken  diagno- 
sis. What  a  fine  old  fellow  he  is !  "  with  a  quick 
change  to  earnestness.  "  How  kind  he  has  been, 
how  untiring  in  his  attention  and  goodness  to 
me.  And  so  skilful,  too.  I  am  ashamed  of 
my  presumption.  A  mere  beginner  like  myself, 
to  question  his  methods  in  dealing  with  the  Cold 
Plague !  I  don't  believe  he  made  the  mistakes 
they  said  he  did.  He  couldn't ! " 

It  was  an  unlucky  recollection.  The  thought  of 
this  mysterious  epidemic  which  had  grown  worse, 
till  it  was  now  devastating  the  whole  coun- 
try, made  him  suddenly  restless.  His  patients 
were  needing  him  sorely  while  he  lay  here,  still 
bound  hand  and  foot  by  weakness.  He  turned 


290  ROUND   ANVIL   ROCK 

his  head  miserably  on  the  pillow.  It  was  not  the 
first  time  that  this  thought  had  troubled  him,  and 
she  knew  the  signs.  Laying  a  gentle,  soothing 
hand  on  his  tossing  head,  she  spoke  in  the 
quieting  tone  that  a  woman  always  uses  to  soothe 
and  comfort  a  child  or  a  man  whom  she  loves. 

« It  will  not  be  long  now.  You  can  soon  go 
back  to  them,"  she  said. 

The  tone  was  none  the  less  soothing  because 
a  bitter  pang  went  through  her  own  heart  with 
the  words.  What  should  she  do  when  he  was 
gone  ?  And  he  was  almost  strong  enough  to  re- 
turn to  the  work  which  was  calling  him.  But 
the  aching  of  a  true  woman's  own  heart  has 
nothing  to  do  with  the  peace  that  she  gives  to 
those  whom  she  loves.  And  then  it  may  have 
been  only  the  sweet  sadness  of  the  spirit  harp's 
sighing  that  made  Ruth's  lips  quiver  under  their 
bright  smile. 

"  But  they  need  me  now,"  he  groaned.  "  They 
are  dying  untended  while  I  lie  helpless  here.  The 
old  doctor  cannot  take  care  of  them.  He  has 
too  many  patients  of  his  own.  He  is  riding  day 
and  night.  He  tries  to  hide  the  truth,  but  I  know 
it.  The  Cold  Plague  grows  in  violence  every  day." 

He  suddenly  raised  himself  on  his  elbow  with 
a  great  effort. 

"Maybe  I  can  sit  up  if  I  try  very  hard,"  he 
gasped.  "The  will  has  much  to  do  with  the 
strength.  I  am  determined  —  " 

"  No  !  no  ! "  cried  Ruth  in  alarm. 


THE   EAGLE   IN   THE   DOVE'S    NEST        291 

But  he  had  already  sunk  back  exhausted.  His 
lids  drooped  heavily  for  a  moment  through  weak- 
ness. And  then  he  looked  up  in  her  frightened 
face  with  a  reassuring  smile  as  she  gently  pressed 
his  head  down  upon  the  pillow. 

"  What  strict  little  mother,"  he  murmured. 

She  shook  her  head  and  drew  the  counterpane 
closer  about  his  neck,  carefully  lightening  the 
weight  over  his  wounded  shoulder.  With  soft 
light  touches  she  smoothed  out  the  smallest 
wrinkle  marring  the  comfort  of  the  narrow 
bed.  When  this  was  done  and  he  lay  quiet  again, 
she  began  to  talk  quietly  but  brightly  of  other 
things,  hoping  to  divert  his  thoughts.  She  told 
him  all  the  innocent  gossip  of  the  neighborhood. 
Most  of  this  had  come  to  her  from  the  Sisters,  for 
she  seldom  saw  any  one  else.  There  was  much 
to  tell  of  their  little  charges,  and  particularly  of 
the  three  babies  whom  he  and  Father  Orin  had 
taken  from  the  deserted,  plague-stricken  cabin  in 
the  wilderness.  She  did  not  say  that  these  little 
ones  had  become  her  own  special  care,  but  caused 
his  smile  to  grow  brighter  by  telling  how  like 
children  the  gentle  Sisters  themselves  were. 
She  repeated  what  they  had  said  of  Tommy 
Dye's  last  visit.  Their  serious,  perplexed  account 
of  it  was  now  unconsciously  colored  by  her  own 
gentle,  fine  sense  of  humor  which  also  came  so 
close  to  pathos  that  a  lump  rose  in  Paul  Colbert's 
throat  as  he  listened.  He  could  see  just  how 
poor  Tommy  Dye  had  looked,  but  his  eyes  grew 


292  ROUND   ANVIL   ROCK 

dim  while  his  lips  smiled.  And  now  another 
and  deeper  shadow  swiftly  swept  over  his  face. 

"  So  even  poor  old  Tommy  Dye  has  gone  to 
Tippecanoe.  Everybody  but  me  is  gone  or  go- 
ing. I  alone  am  left  behind.  And  yet  —  even 
if  this  hadn't  happened  —  I  must  still  have  stood 
at  my  post,"  he  said  sadly. 

Her  hand  fluttered  down  upon  his  like  a 
startled  dove.  There  was  a  sudden  radiance 
in  her  dark  blue  eyes.  She  barely  breathed  the 
next  words  that  she  spoke :  — 

"  Yes  ;  you  must  have  stayed,  anyway.  The 
doctor  of  the  wilderness  —  the  healer  every- 
where —  can  never  march  with  other  soldiers. 
He  can  never  go  shoulder  to  shoulder  with  cheer- 
ing comrades  at  the  roll  of  drums  and  the  blare  of 
trumpets  under  waving  banners  —  to  seek  glory 
on  the  battle-field  while  all  the  world  looks  on 
and  applauds.  No  —  no  —  the  doctor  of  the  wil- 
derness— the  healer  everywhere  —  is  a  solitary 
soldier,  who  must  always  go  alone  and  silently  to 
meet  Death  single-handed,  and  struggle  with  him, 
day  after  day,  and  night  after  night,  so  long  as 
he  may  live,  fighting  ceaselessly  for  his  own  life 
as  well  as  the  lives  of  others." 

There  was  a  quivering  silence,  filled  only  with 
the  sighing  of  the  wind-harp.  The  young  doc- 
tor's hand  had  closed  over  hers.  She  went  on 
in  a  lower  tone :  — 

"  And  surely  the  man  who  risks  his  life  to  save 
is  braver  than  he  who  risks  it  to  slay." 


THE   EAGLE  IN   THE   DOVE'S   NEST        293 

Startled  at  her  own  boldness,  she  drew  away 
when  he  tried,  with  the  slight  strength  that  he 
had,  to  draw  her  to  him.  They  had  not  spoken 
to  each  other  of  love.  He  knew  little  of  what 
had  taken  place  that  night  at  Anvil  Rock  when 
she  had  believed  that  his  soul  and  her  heart 
were  parting  with  all  earthly  things.  He  had 
not  heard  what  she  had  said  then,  and  they  had 
not  been  left  alone  together  since  his  hurt  until 
this  morning.  There  had  been  many  constantly 
coming  and  going  about  the  sick  bed  during  the 
first  days,  and  to  him  those  days  were  mere 
blanks  of  suffering  and  blurs  of  pain.  It  was 
only  to-day  that  he  had  begun  to  regain  in  a  meas- 
ure the  power  of  his  mind  and  will.  If  he  could 
but  have  had  for  one  instant  .the  old  power  of  his 
body !  He  did  not  know  whether  this  beauti- 
ful, tender  young  creature  beside  him  was  still 
under  promise  to  marry  another  man.  There 
had  been  no  opportunity  for  any  confidential 
talk.  The  name  of  William  Pressley  had  never 
been  mentioned  between  them.  The  thought  of 
him  was  like  a  touch  of  fire  to  Paul  Colbert, 
so  burning  was  the  contempt  which  he  felt  for 
this  conceited  dullard  whose  blundering  had 
nearly  been  his  own  death.  But  he  could  not 
say  anything  of  this  to  her — the  fact  that  she 
had  once  been  engaged  to  be  married  to  the  man 
held  him  silent.  It  might  be  that  she  was  still 
bound,  and  yet  there  was  something  in  her  soft 
eyes  that  led  him  to  hope  that  she  was  free  — 


294  ROUND  ANVIL  ROCK 

something,  at  least,  which  seemed  to  give  him 
leave  to  wrest  freedom  for  her  from  the  strongest 
that  might  try  to  hold  her  against  her  sweet 
will.  If  only  he  were  not  stretched  here,  a 
mere  burden,  a  clog. 

The  look  in  his  sunken  eyes,  —  glowing  like 
coals,  —  the  burning  words  which  she  read  on 
his  silent  lips,  made  her  slip  her  hands  from  his 
and  move  hastily  away.  She  went  confusedly 
over  to  the  window  and  hailed  the  sight  of  the 
birds  on  the  sill  with  sudden  relief. 

"  My  little  feathered  family  are  all  here,"  she 
said  without  looking  round.  "  Can  you  see  the 
blue  jay  ?  He  is  on  the  window-sill  trying  his 
best  to  peep  over  it  at  you." 

"  I  hope  he  is  jealous  of  me,"  trying  to  speak 
lightly. 

"  He's  a  great  tyrant.  He  has  driven  away 
all  the  other  birds.  He  will  not  allow  them  to 
have  one  of  the  crumbs  that  I  put  out.  Most 
of  them  are  sitting  in  a  forlorn  little  row  on  the 
nearest  tree.  I  wonder  what  he  is  saying  to 
them  in  that  rough  voice,  yet  maybe  it  is  better 
not  to  know.  It  must  be  something  very  rude, 
the  redbird's  bearing  makes  me  think  so.  He  is 
standing  very  straight  and  holding  his  head  very 
high,  but  he  isn't  saying  a  word  —  of  course. 
He  is  too  much  of  a  gentleman  to  quarrel  with 
a  rowdy  like  the  blue  jay.  Just  hear  how  he  is 
domineering  !  These  little  song  sparrows  must 
surely  be  ladybirds  —  they  are  talking  back  in 


THE  EAGLE   IN   THE  DOVE'S   NEST        295 

such  a  saucy  twitter.  Can  you  hear  them  ?  I 
wish  you  could  see  them.  They  are  turning 
their  pretty  heads  from  side  to  side  as  much  as 
to  say,  that  he  can't  keep  them  from  speaking 
their  minds  if  he  does  keep  them  from  getting 
the  crumbs.  Can  you  hear  the  silvery  ripple  of 
their  plaints  ?  Nothing  could  be  sweeter.  There  ! 
I  will  raise  the  window  just  a  hair's  breadth. 
Listen !  Isn't  it  like  a  chime  of  fairy  bells, 
heard  in  a  dream  ?  But  I  hope  you  haven't 
felt  any  draught.  It  is  much  colder  than  yes- 
terday." 

Dropping  the  sash  she  went  to  the  fireplace 
and  laid  several  sticks  on  the  blaze.  She  stood 
still  for  a  moment,  gazing  down  at  the  fire  and 
then  she  took  a  low  chair  beside  the  hearth. 
She  knew  that  Paul  Colbert  was  looking  at  her, 
but  she  did  not  turn  her  head  to  meet  his  gaze. 
For  she  also  knew  that  he  was  merely  biding  his 
time,  merely  gathering  strength  to  speak,  merely 
waiting  till  he  had  found  words  strong  and  tender 
enough.  If  her  eyes  were  to  meet  his,  she  must  go 
to  him — she  could  not  resist — and  yet  she  felt 
that  she  must  not  go  while  her  plighted  word 
was  given  to  another  man.  It  did  not  matter  that 
the  promise  had  been  made  under  persuasion  and 
in  ignorance  of  what  love  meant.  It  made  no 
difference  that  she  was  sure  that  William,  too, 
longed  to  be  free.  The  promise  had  been  made, 
and  she  was  bound  by  it,  until  she  could  tell 
William  Pressley  the  truth  and  ask  him  to  set  her 


296  ROUND   ANVIL   ROCK 

free.  Soft  and  feminine  as  her  nature  was,  she 
had  nevertheless  a  singularly  clear,  firm  sense  of 
honor  as  most  men  understand  that  term  —  and 
as  few  women  do.  She  had  already  tried  more 
than  once  to  tell  him,  but  he  had  been  almost 
constantly  away  from  home  of  late.  It  was  to 
her  mind  simply  a  question  of  honor.  The 
dread  of  giving  him  pain  which  she  had  shrunk 
from  at  first,  had  now  wholly  passed  away.  It 
was  so  plain  that  he  also  recognized  the  mistake 
of  this  engagement  and  would  be  glad  to  be  free, 
that  the  last  weight  was  lifted  from  her  heart. 
She  had  been  truly  attached  to  him  as  she  was  to 
almost  every  one  with  whom  she  came  in  daily 
contact,  and  this  affection  was  not  altered.  Hers 
was  such  a  loving  nature  that  it  was  as  natural 
for  her  to  love  those  about  her  as  for  a  young 
vine  to  cling  to  everything  that  it  touches.  Every 
instinct  of  her  heart  was  a  tender,  sensitive 
tendril  of  affection,  and  all  these  soft  and  grow- 
ing tendrils  reaching  out  in  the  loneliness  of  her 
life  had  clung  even  to  William  Pressley,  as  a  fine 
young  vine  will  twine  round  a  hard  cold  rock 
when  it  can  reach  nothing  softer  or  warmer  or 
higher.  Her  own  rich,  warm,  loving  nature  had 
indeed  so  wreathed  his  coldness  and  hardness 
that  she  could  not  see  him  as  he  really  was.  And 
now  —  without  any  change  in  either  the  vine 
or  the  rock  —  everything  was  wholly  different. 
It  was  as  if  a  tropical  storm  had  suddenly  lifted 
all  these  clinging  tendrils  away  from  the  un- 


THE  EAGLE   IN   THE   DOVE'S  NEST        297 

responsive  rock  and  had  borne  them  heavenward 
into  the  eager  arms  of  a  living  oak. 

She  knew  now  the  difference  between  the  love 
that  a  loving  nature  gives  to  all,  and  the  love  which 
a  strong  nature  gives  to  only  one.  Her  heart  was 
beating  so  under  this  new,  deep  knowledge  of  life, 
that  she  feared  lest  the  man  whom  she  loved 
might  hear.  Yet  she  sat  still  with  her  little 
hands  tightly  clasped  on  her  lap,  as  if  to  hold 
herself  firm,  and  she  held  herself  from  looking 
round,  though  the  silence  continued  unbroken. 
William  must  be  told  before  she  might  listen  to 
the  words  which  she  so  longed  to  hear  from  Paul's 
lips.  It  was  noble  of  him  to  hold  them  back. 
Every  moment  that  she  had  been  sitting  by  the 
hearth  she  had  been  expecting  to  hear  them.  So 
that  she  sat  now  in  tense,  quivering  suspense, 
waiting,  fearing,  longing,  dreading,  through  this 
strange,  long  silence ;  filled  only  by  the  sighing 
of  the  wind-harp  and  the  crackling  of  the  fire. 
And  then,  being  a  true  woman,  she  could  endure 
it  no  longer,  and  turning  slightly  she  gave  him 
a  shy,  timid  glance.  As  she  looked  she  cried 
out  in  terror. 

His  head,  which  had  been  so  eagerly  raised  a 
moment  before,  had  fallen ;  his  eyes,  which  had 
been  aglow  but  an  instant  since,  were  closed. 
The  effort,  the  agitation,  had  been  too  great  for 
his  slight  strength.  The  strong  spirit,  impatient 
of  the  weak  flesh,  was  again  slipping  away 
from  it. 


298  BOUND   ANVIL   ROCK 

She  thought  he  was  dying,  and  forgetting 
everything  but  her  love  for  him,  she  flew  to 
him  and  fell  on  her  knees  by  his  side.  Raising 
his  heavy  head  in  her  arms  she  held  it  against 
her  bosom.  She  did  not  know  that  her  lips 
touched  his,  she  was  seeking  only  to  learn  if  he 
breathed.  When  his  eyes  opened  blankly,  she 
kissed  them  till  they  closed  again,  because  she 
could  not  bear  to  see  the  dreadful  blank- 
ness  that  was  in  them.  When  he  moaned  she 
fell  to  rocking  gently  back  and  forth,  holding 
his  head  closer  against  her  breast,  and  pres- 
ently began  to  croon  softly.  She  never  once 
thought  of  calling  for  help ;  it  was  to  her 
as  if  there  had  been  no  one  but  themselves  in 
the  whole  world.  And  presently  his  faintness 
passed  away,  and  when  his  arms,  so  weakly 
raised,  went  round  her,  she  did  not  try  to  escape. 
After  a  little  he  found  strength  to  speak  a  part 
of  all  that  was  in  his  heart,  and  she  told  him 
what  she  could  of  all  that  was  in  hers.  And  both 
spoke  as  a  great  love  speaks  when  it  first  turns 
slowly  back  from  facing  death. 


XXII 

"A  COMET'S  GLARE  FORETOLD  THIS  SAD  EVENT" 

WHEN  the  barriers  had  thus  been  broken  down, 
she  had  spoken  of  the  breach  between  William 
and  herself.  There  had  not  been  a  bitter  word 
or  a  harsh  thought  in  all  that  she  said.  It  had 
been  merely  a  mutual  mistake ;  they  had  both 
mistaken  the  affection  which  grows  out  of  famil- 
iar association,  for  the  love  that  instantly  draws 
a  man  and  a  woman  together,  though  they  may 
never  before  have  seen  one  another,  and  holds 
them  forever,  away  from  all  the  rest  of  the 
world. 

"  I  know  the  difference  now,"  she  said  several 
days  later,  with  a  deeper  tint  in  her  cheeks  and 
a  brighter  light  in  her  blue  eyes.  "  And  I  am 
sure  that  William  does,  too.  It's  plain  enough 
that  he  will  be  glad  to  be  free,  but  he  cannot  say 
so,  because  he  is  a  gentleman.  Don't  you  see  ? 
For  that  very  reason,  just  because  he  is  so  high- 
minded,  I  am  all  the  more  bound  to  do  what  is 
right.  You  do  see,  don't  you  ?  " 

He  was  sitting  up  for  the  first  time  that  day, 
his  chair  was  by  the  window  and  she  was  sewing 
beside  him. 

299 


30«  ROUND   ANVIL  ROCK 

"  I  see  what  you  think  is  right,"  Paul  said 
smilingly.  "  And  he  certainly  should  be  told  at 
once.  But  perhaps  I  might  —  " 

"  Oh,  no !  I  must  tell  him  myself.  That 
would  only  be  treating  him  with  due  respect. 
And  William  thinks  a  great  deal  of  respect  — 
much  more  than  he  does  of  love.  But  I  can't 
get  a  chance  to  speak  to  him.  He  is  always 
coming  and  going  of  late,  and  all  the  family  are 
present  when  I  do  see  him.  You  must  wait ; 
you  must  not  say  a  word  to  uncle  Robert  till 
I  have  told  William ;  it  wouldn't  be  honorable 
on  my  part." 

"  But  you  are  forgetting,  little  girl,  that  there 
may  be  scruples  on  my  side,  too.  If  my  strength 
should  come  back  as  fast  in  the  next  two  or 
three  days,  I  shall  be  able  to  leave  Cedar  House 
before  the  end  of  the  week.  I  cannot  go  away 
in  silence ;  there  must  be  no  sort  of  secrecy. 
You  perceive  there  is  a  question  of  honor  there, 
too.  I  must  speak  to  the  judge  —  " 

"It  isn't  any  question  of  secrecy.  There  is 
nothing  to  keep  secret,"  she  protested  and 
coaxed.  "  I  am  thinking  only  of  William's 
feelings,  and  trying  to  spare  his  pride.  I  know 
him  best  and  I  am  fond  of  him.  Don't  forget 
that.  There  has  not  been  the  least  change  in 
my  affection  for  him,"  holding  her  beautiful  head 
very  straight.  "  Don't  think  for  a  moment  that 
my  regard  for  William  has  been  lessened,"  sud- 
denly dimpling,  softening,  and  beaming,  "by 


"A  COMET'S  GLARE"  301 

my  falling  in  love  with  you.  That  is  an  entirely 
different  thing." 

"  I  should  hope  so,  indeed  !  "  suddenly  bending 
forward  and  catching  her  in  his  arms  with  a 
happy  laugh.  "  You  see  how  strong  I  am. 
Well,  then,  you  needn't  expect  to  have  your  own 
way  all  the  time  much  longer.  I  yield  only 
so  far  as  to  give  you  three  days  —  exactly  three 
days  from  the  moment  that  I  leave  this  house, 
and  not  one  moment  more.  At  the  end  of  that 
time  I  shall  come  to  see  the  judge." 

"  And  uncle  Philip.  I  couldn't  be  happy 
without  his  approval.  I  have  be^n  longing  to 
tell  him.  I  would  have  told  him  at  once  if  I 
hadn't  felt  bound  to  speak  to  William  first. 
Dear  uncle  Philip !  He  is  always  happy  over 
anything  that  makes  me  happy.  Next  to  you, 
dear  heart,  there  is  no  one  in  all  the  world  that 
I  love  so  much  —  not  half  so  much.  And  there 
is  no  one  whom  he  loves  as  he  does  me ;  he 
thinks  only  of  my  happiness." 

Her  eyes  sought  his  with  a  wistful  look.  She 
felt  that  he  did  not  like  Philip  Alston,  and  there 
was  distress  in  the  thought  that  these  two,  whom 
she  loved  most  out  of  all  on  earth,  should  not 
be  the  warmest  of  friends. 

"  You  mustn't  think  him  indifferent  because 
he  hasn't  been  to  see  you,"  she  pleaded.  "  Please 
don't  think  that,  for  it  isn't  true.  He  hasn't 
come  because  he  never  can  bear  the  sight  of 
suffering.  He  says  it's  purely  a  physical  pecu- 


302  ROUND   ANVIL   ROCK 

liarity  which  he  cannot  control.  Anything  that 
makes  him  think  of  violence  or  cruelty  shocks 
and  repulses  him.  He  shrinks  from  it  as  he 
would  from  a  harsh  sound  or  an  evil  odor.  He 
says  it's  because  his  refinement  is  greater  than 
his  humanity.  But  it  is  really  his  tender  heart. 
Some  day  when  you  know  him  better  you  will 
find  his  heart  as  tender  as  I  have  always  found  it." 

He,  knowing  what  was  in  her  loving  heart, 
could  not  meet  her  gaze,  and  hastily  looked  away 
gazing  across  the  river.  His  thoughts  swiftly 
followed  his  eyes,  for  he  would  not  have  been 
the  man  that  he  was,  could  even  this  great  new 
love  which  was  now  filling  his  heart,  and  was 
to  fill  all  his  future  life,  have  made  him  forget 
his  old  love  for  this  great  new  state,  and  the 
awful  crises  through  which  it  was  passing. 

For  that  was  a  time  of  great  stress,  of  deep 
anxiety,  and  of  almost  intolerable  suspense. 
Those  early  days  and  nights  of  November  in  the 
year  eighteen  hundred  and  eleven,  were  indeed 
among  the  most  stressful  in  the  whole  stormy 
history  of  Kentucky.  And  through  her  —  since 
her  fate  was  to  be  the  fate  of  the  Empire  of  the 
West  —  they  were  as  portentous  as  any  that  the 
nation  has  ever  known.  On  that  very  day  in 
truth,  and  not  very  far  off,  there  had  already  been 
enacted  one  of  the  mightiest  events  that  went 
to  the  shaping  of  the  national  destiny.  Over  the 
river  on  the  banks  of  its  tributary,  the  Wabash, 
the  battle  of  Tippecanoe  had  been  fought  and 


"A  COMET'S   GLARE"  303 

won  between  the  darkness  and  daylight  of  that 
gloomy  seventh  of  November.  The  young  doctor, 
like  all  the  people  of  the  country,  knew  that 
the  long-dreaded  hour  had  struck,  that  this  last 
decisive  struggle  between  the  white  race  and  the 
red  must  be  close  at  hand ;  but  neither  he  nor 
any  one  in  that  region  knew  that  it  was  already 
ended.  There  had  not  been  a  single  sign  or 
sound  to  tell  when  the  conflict  was  actually  going 
on.  It  was  said  that  the  roar  of  the  cannon 
was  heard  much  farther  away,  as  far  even  as 
Monk's  Mound,  where  the  Trappists  —  those  most 
ill-fated  of  Kentucky  pioneers  —  had  found  tem- 
porary refuge.  But  if  this  be  true,  it  must  have 
been  by  reason  of  the  fact  that  sound  carries 
very  far  over  vast  level  prairies,  when  it  cannot 
cross  a  much  shorter  distance  which  rises  in  hills 
covered  with  forests,  such  as  shut  out  every 
echo  of  the  battle  from  Cedar  House. 

Paul  Colbert  got  up  suddenly  and  began  to 
walk  the  room,  though  he  staggered  from  weak- 
ness. He  could  not  sit  still  under  the  torture 
of  such  suspense,  when  he  thought  of  all  that  was 
at  stake  on  the  outcome  of  the  conflict  which 
might  even  then  be  waging  beyond  those  spectral 
trees.  The  safety  of  the  people  living  along 
the  river,  their  homes,  their  lives  —  all  these 
were  hanging  upon  the  strength  of  the  soldier's 
arm.  He  knew  how  small  the  white  army  was. 
If  it  should  be  conquered,  the  opposite  shore 
might  at  any  instant  be  red  with  victorious 


304  ROUND  ANVIL  ROCK 

savages  rushing  to  the  great  Shawnee  Crossing. 
And  then  —  he  looked  at  Ruth,  feeling  his  help- 
lessness as  he  had  not  felt  the  keenest  pain  of 
his  wound.  She  saw  the  look,  and  felt  its  dis- 
tress, although  she  did  not  understand  all  that 
it  meant.  She  gently  urged  him  back  to  his 
chair,  frightened  to  see  how  weak  he  was. 

"  Sit  still  till  I  come  back.  I  will  run  down- 
stairs and  see  if  there  is  any  news,"  she  coaxed 
in  a  soothing  tone. 

The  household  was  gathered  in  the  great  room 
waiting  and  watching.  The  old  ladies  by  the 
hearth  scarcely  noticed  one  another.  The  judge 
sitting  apart  half  started  up  at  the  faint  rustle 
of  Ruth's  approach,  but  finding  that  it  was  no 
messenger  bringing  news,  he  sat  down  again  with 
a  weary  sigh,  and  his  gaze  went  back  to  the  other 
side  of  the  river.  His  appearance  told  how  great 
his  anxiety  was.  His  rugged,  homely  face  was 
haggard  and  unshorn,  and  his  rough  dress  was 
even  more  careless  than  common.  William 
Pressley  arose  and  came  forward  to  give  Ruth  a 
chair.  There  was  no  visible  change  in  him,  his 
dress  was  as  immaculate  as  it  always  was.  His 
manner  was  just  as  coldly  implacable  as  it  had 
been  ever  since  the  quarrel ;  but  then  his  temper 
never  had  anything  to  do  with  his  looks  or  his 
manners.  No  degree  of  uneasiness  could  ever 
make  him  forget  appearances  or  the  smallest 
form  of  courtesy ;  and  he  would  have  thought  it 
a  pitiable  sort  of  man  who  could  be  moved  by 


"A   COMET'S   GLARE"  305 

emotion  to  any  kind  of  irregularity.  His  way 
of  placing  the  chair  proclaimed  that  he  never 
failed  to  do  all  that  became  a  gentleman,  no 
matter  how  neglectful  emotional  people  might 
sometimes  become. 

Philip  Alston,  coming  in  just  at  that  moment, 
saw  something  of  this  with  mingled  amusement 
and  satisfaction.  The  candor  of  William  Press- 
ley's  self-consciousness,  the  sincerity  of  his  self- 
conceit,  the  firmness  of  his  belief  in  his  own 
infallibility,  claimed  a  measure  of  real  respect, 
and  Philip  Alston  gave  it  in  full.  He  thought 
none  the  less  of  him  because  he  could  not  help 
smiling  a  little  at  the  solemn  progress  which 
the  young  lawyer  was  then  making  across  the 
great  room.  To  be  able  to  smile  at  anything  on 
that  day  of  strain  was  a  boon.  And  then  it  was 
always  pleasing  and  cheering  to  see  any  fresh  sign 
that  he  had  read  the  young  lawyer's  character 
aright,  and  he  was  glad  to  see  again  what  a  good- 
looking,  well-mannered,  right-minded  young  fel- 
low he  was.  Nothing  could  be  said  against  him. 
Everything  —  or  almost  everything  —  was  to  be 
said  in  his  praise.  The  open  fact  that  he  thought 
all  this  himself  would  be  nothing  against  him 
with  Ruth.  A  man's  faith  in  himself  is  indeed 
often  the  chief  cause  of  a  woman's  faith  in  him. 
No  one  knew  this  better  than  Philip  Alston.  As 
he  looked  at  William  that  day,  a  new  feeling 
of  peace  came  into  his  perturbed  breast.  He 
was  beginning  to  be  disheartened  by  unexpected 


306  ROUND  ANVIL  ROCK 

opposition  to  his  plan  to  have  the  young  lawyer 
appointed  to  the  office  of  attorney-general.  Had 
he  been  closer  in  touch  with  the  governor,  he 
would  have  known  that  all  his  efforts  were  use- 
less, for  the  office  was  held  by  appointment  in 
those  days,  and  not  by  election  as  it  is  now.  But 
it  was  a  long  way  to  the  state  capital  on  horse- 
back, and  he  had  seen  no  newspapers,  so  that  he 
knew  nothing  positively,  and  was  only  beginning 
to  fear.  And  thinking  about  the  uncertainty,  he 
was  encouraged  to  feel  that  even  failure  in  this 
would  not  alter  his  belief  that  the  marriage  was 
the  best  Ruth  could  make.  There  was  some- 
thing purely  unselfish  in  the  content  that  he  felt. 
With  clouds  lowering  around  his  own  head,  it 
comforted  him  to  feel  that  her  future  would  be 
safe  whatever  came.  He  smiled  at  her,  shaking 
his  head  when  she  asked  if  he  had  heard  any 
news,  and  drew  her  down  by  his  side.  At  the  first 
opportunity  he  must  ask  about  Sister  Angela's 
progress  with  the  wedding  clothes.  It  was  not 
long  now  till  Christmas  Eve,  and  he  wanted  to 
hear  more  about  the  preparations  for  the  marriage. 
These  had  seemed  to  lag  of  late. 

The  blood-red  sun  went  down  behind  threaten- 
ing clouds  on  that  terrible  day,  and  the  second 
morning  came  in  with  a  wintry  storm  of  icy 
winds  and  swirling  snow.  Then  followed  two 
more  gloomy,  gray  days  and  two  more  wild,  black 
nights.  The  fifth  day  dawned  still  wilder  and 


"A  COMET'S  GLARE"  307 

darker,  but  Paul  Colbert  found  strength  to  go 
away.  On  the  sixth  it  seemed  to  Ruth  that 
her  heart  would  break  with  its  aching  for  his  ab- 
sence ;  and  with  the  sadness  that  came  from  listen- 
ing to  a  sobbing  wind  which  sighed  despairingly 
through  the  naked  forest ;  and  with  watching  a 
melancholy  rain  which  hung  a  dark  curtain  be- 
tween Cedar  House  and  the  other  side  of  the  river. 
And  thus  the  dreadful  time  dragged  on  into  the 
seventh  endless  day,  and  still  there  was  no  news 
from  Tippecanoe.  A  courier  could  have  brought 
it  in  a  few  hours  by  riding  fast  through  the 
wide,  trackless  wilderness,  and  swimming  broad, 
unbridged  rivers.  But  no  couriers  came  toward 
Cedar  House.  There  was  no  reason  for  sending 
a  special  messenger  to  a  corner  of  one  state  when 
the  whole  nation  was  clamoring  to  hear.  So 
that  the  couriers  were  speeding  with  all  possible 
haste  toward  the  National  Capital,  and  the  people 
of  Cedar  House  could  only  wait  and  watch  like 
those  who  were  much  farther  off. 

And  thus  it  was  that  after  a  whole  week  had 
passed,  they  still  did  not  know  that  the  battle  of 
Tippecanoe  had  been  fought,  and  that  a  precious 
victory  had  been  bought  at  a  fearful  price.  And 
even  now,  who  knows  whether  or  not  that 
fearful  price  need  have  been  paid  ?  It  is  hard 
to  see  the  truth  clearly,  looking  back  through  the 
mists  of  nearly  a  hundred  years.  In  the  strange 
story  of  that  famous  battle,  only  one  fact  stands 
out  clear  beyond  all  dispute,  and  that  is  so 


308  ROUND  ANVIL   ROCK 

incredible  as  to  stagger  belief.  It  appears  at 
first  utterly  past  belief  that  the  white  army, 
marching  against  the  red  army  with  the  open 
purpose  of  attacking  it  on  the  next  day,  should 
have  lain  down  almost  at  the  feet  of  the  desper- 
ate foe,  and  have  gone  quietly  to  sleep.  Only 
the  recorded  word  of  the  general  in  command 
makes  this  fact  credible.  He  also  says,  to  be 
sure,  that  the  soldiers  "would  have  been  called 
in  two  minutes  more ; "  but  he  admits  that  they 
had  not  been  called  when  the  red  army  made  the 
attack,  without  waiting  till  the  white  army  woke 
of  its  own  accord  to  begin  fighting  at  leisure 
by  daylight,  without  even  waiting  those  two 
minutes  for  the  general's  convenience.  What 
happened  to  the  helpless  sleepers  then,  when  the 
waking  warriors  thus  fell  upon  the  sleeping 
soldiers,  may  be  most  eloquently  told  in  the 
general's  own  words.  "  Such  of  them  as  were 
awake  or  easily  awakened,  seized  their  arms  and 
took  their  stations,  others,  more  tardy,  had  to  con- 
tend with  the  enemy  at  the  doors  of  their  tents." 
Turning  the  yellowed  pages  of  this  most  amaz- 
ing report,  the  reader  can  only  wonder  that  the 
furious  tide  of  battle  which  set  so  overwhelm- 
ingly against  the  soldiers  in  the  beginning,  ever 
could  have  been  turned  by  all  the  brave  blood 
poured  out  before  its  turning. 

On  the  eighth  anguished  day  of  suspense  Ruth 
went  to  the  door  to  welcome  Philip  Alston,  and 
looking  toward  the  forest  path,  saw  Father  Orin , 


"A  COMET'S  GLARE"  309 

and  Toby  approaching.  There  was  something  in 
the  way  they  moved  that  told  they  had  news,  and 
when  they  reached  Cedar  House,  the  whole 
household  was  breathlessly  waiting  for  them. 
The  white  family  was  gathered  inside  the  front 
door,  and  the  black  people,  running  up  from  the 
quarters,  crowded  round  the  door  on  the  outside, 
with  ashen  faces,  for  their  fear  of  the  savages 
was,  if  possible,  greater  than  the  white  people's. 
All  pressed  around  Toby,  and  Father  Orin  told 
the  good  news  as  quickly  as  he  could,  without 
taking  time  to  dismount ;  but  his  voice  trembled 
so  that  he  could  hardly  speak,  and  his  eyes  were 
so  full  of  tears  that  he  could  not  see.  He  was 
not  yet  able  to  rejoice  over  a  victory  which  had 
cost  the  life  of  a  dear  friend. 

"  And  Joe  Daviess  ?  "  asked  Philip  Alston. 

Father  Orin  silently  turned  his  face  toward  the 
river  and  made  the  sign  of  the  cross ;  but  he  turned 
back  and  patted  Ruth's  head  when  she  pressed  it 
against  Toby's  mane  and  burst  into  sobbing. 

"  It  was  he  who  saved  the  day,"  the  priest  said 
huskily.  "  He  led  the  desperate  charge  that  won 
the  battle,  when  everything  seemed  lost.  He 
received  his  death  wound  in  the  charge,  but  he 
lived  long  enough  to  know  that  the  victory  was 
ours." 

«  He  was  a  great  man ;  his  name  will  never 
be  forgotten.  His  sword  has  now  carved  it  im- 
perishably  on  the  key-stone  of  the  new  state's 
triumphal  arch,"  said  Philip  Alston. 


310  ROUND   ANVIL  ROCK 

"  And  Tommy  Dye  ?  "  asked  Ruth,  lifting  her 
wet  eyes.  "  The  Sisters  are  so  anxious." 

"  And  poor  Tommy  Dye,  also,"  answered  Father 
Oriri. 

These  two  brave  men  who  lived  their  lives  so 
far  apart,  had  fallen  almost  side  by  side.  Joe 
Daviess,  the  noble,  the  fearless,  the  highly  gifted, 
the  honored,  the  famous ;  and  Tommy  Dye,  the 
kindly,  the  reckless,  the  poorly  endowed,  the  mis- 
guided, the  obscure,  —  both  had  done  all  that  the 
noblest  could  do.  The  mould  and  the  dead  leaves 
of  the  wilderness  would  cover  both  their  graves. 
Only  the  initials  of  his  name  roughly  cut  on  a 
tree  would  mark  the  glorious  resting-place  of  the 
one.  Only  an  humble  heap  of  unmarked  earth 
would  tell  where  a  noble  death  had  closed  the 
ignoble  life  of  the  other. 


XXIII 

LOVE   CLAIMS    HIS   OWN 

THE  tears  had  been  heavy  on  Ruth's  dark 
lashes  when  she  had  fallen  asleep,  but  she  awoke 
with  a  smile,  radiant  and  expectant.  She  could  not 
remember  at  first  what  made  her  so  happy,  and 
a  pang  touched  her  heart  at  the  sudden  recollec- 
tion of  the  night's  sadness.  And  then  suddenly 
she  began  to  glow  again  at  the  thought  of  her 
lover's  coming.  The  week  of  his  exile  was  ended 
on  that  day,  and  he  would  come.  She  knew  just 
how  he  would  look  when  he  came  with  his  head 
held  high,  and  his  clear  eyes,  so  kind,  and  yet 
so  fearless,  looking  straight  in  every  face.  She 
could  tell  the  very  moment  when  he  would  come, 
for  she  had  the  happiness  —  which  every  woman 
prizes  and  few  ever  know  —  of  loving  a  man  who 
kept  his  word  in  the  letter  as  well  as  the  spirit. 
If  men  could  but  know  the  difference  there  is  to 
a  woman !  But  they  hardly  ever  do  know,  be- 
cause this  is  a  little  thing,  and  they  can  never 
understand  that  it  is  the  little  things  and  not 
the  large  ones  that  make  the  happiness  or  the 
wretchedness  of  most  women. 

She  exulted  in  the  thought  that  he  would  come 
at  the  very  instant  he  had  named,  no  sooner 

311 


312  ROUND  ANVIL   ROCK 

and  no  later,  and  this  would  be  precisely  at 
four  o'clock.  She  looked  round  with  a  smile, 
trying  to  tell  by  the  mark  on  the  window-sill 
what  the  time  was  then.  But  the  day  was 
gloomy,  and  there  was  no  sunlight  to  mark  the 
hour.  Solitary  snowflakes  were  drifting  irreso- 
lutely across  the  window,  as  if  uncertain  whether 
to  go  on  earthward  or  return  whence  they  came. 
The  birds  sat  on  the  bare  branches  near  the  win- 
dow waiting  for  their  breakfast  in  ruffled  impa- 
tience, the  blue  jay  having  done  his  best  to  call 
her  to  the  window  earlier.  And  he  said  so,  in 
his  own  way,  as  she  scattered  the  crumbs  with  a 
cheery  good  morning. 

When  she  went  down  to  breakfast,  the  family 
received  her  much  as  the  birds  had  done.  Her 
coming  cheered  them  also,  as  if  a  sunbeam  had 
entered  the  dark  room.  Miss  Penelope  left  off 
what  she  was  saying  about  the  calamities  that 
must  be  expected  in  consequence  of  the  comet's 
tail  coming  loose  from  its  head.  The  widow 
Broadnax  relaxed  her  watch  for  a  moment,  as 
the  fair  young  figure  came  toward  the  hearth 
and  stood  by  her  chair,  resting  a  hand  on  her 
shoulder.  The  judge  brightened,  without  know- 
ing what  it  was  that  suddenly  heartened  him, 
and  David  came  out  of  his  corner  under  the 
stairs,  as  he  never  did,  unless  she  was  in  the  room. 
Only  William  held  aloof  after  a  formal  bow.  At 
the  sight  of  her,  smiling  and  radiant,  the  sullen 
anger  within  him  glowed  like  a  covered  fire 


LOVE  CLAIMS   HIS   OWN  313 

under  a  sudden  breeze.  She  had  not  been  pun- 
ished enough ;  her  face  was  far  too  bright,  her 
manner  far  too  frank.  When  she  approached 
him  and  tried  to  speak  to  him  in  a  tone  that  no 
one  else  could  hear,  he  arose,  and  murmuring  a 
stiff  apology  moved  away,  just  as  he  had  done 
every  time  she  had  made  the  attempt.  She 
flushed  and  lifted  her  head,  for  there  was  no 
lack  of  pride  or  spirit  in  her  softness.  Yet  by 
and  by  she  could  not  help  looking  at  him  across 
the  table  with  another  soft  appeal  in  her  sweet 
eyes  which  plead  dumbly  for  old  times'  sake. 
And  after  breakfast  was  over  she  tried  again, 
knowing  that  this  would  be  the  last  opportunity, 
and  yearning  with  all  her  loving  heart  to  win 
back  some  of  the  old  friendliness  that  she  still 
prized  as  a  precious  thing,  which  she  could  not 
give  up  for  a  mere  touch  of  pride.  Such  soft 
persistence  is  even  harder  to  evade  than  to  re- 
sist, and  she  followed  William  to  the  door  as  he 
was  going  away  later  in  the  day,  and  was 
bravely  gathering  courage  while  he  looked  at 
her  in  implacable  coldness. 

He  was  not  softened  by  the  fact  that  his  hopes 
were  high  that  morning  over  what  appeared  to 
be  the  certainty  of  his  receiving  the  appointment. 
There  was,  he  thought,  not  the  slightest  doubt  if 
he  could  manage  to  secure  the  influence  of  one 
or  two  other  leading  citizens.  As  it  was,  there 
seemed  to  be  little  danger  of  failure,  and  when  he 
now  saw  Philip  Alston  coming,  he  paused  and 


314  ROUND   ANVIL   ROCK 

waited  for  him  to  come  up,  so  that  he  might  tell 
him  what  he  had  been  doing.  He  did  not  know 
that  he  was  merely  telling  Philip  Alston  how  his 
own  orders  had  been  carried  out,  and  there  was 
nothing  in  that  gentleman's  manner  to  remind 
him. 

William  Pressley,  accordingly,  went  on  talking 
with  the  modest  consciousness  of  having  done  all 
that  was  possible  for  any  man  to  do,  and  he  said, 
as  they  were  entering  the  great  room,  that  he 
considered  his  success  a  mere  question  of  time. 

"  A  mere  question  of  time,  and  a  very  short 
time,  too,"  repeated  Philip  Alston,  heartily.  "  I 
congratulate  you.  I  am  proud  of  you.  We  are 
all  proud  of  him  —  hey,  judge  ?  " 

"  I  hope  he  knows  what  he  is  trying  to  under- 
take," the  judge  said  abruptly,  turning  a  glum 
look  on  his  nephew.  "  I  trust,  William,  that 
you  are  realizing  the  responsibility  of  this  office. 
Most  men  would  hesitate  to  assume  it.  I  should 
tremble  at  the  thought." 

"  I  think,  sir,  that  I  shall  be  able  to  do  my 
duty."  William  Pressley  spoke  stiffly,  with  a 
touch  of  condescension  and  a  shade  of  resent- 
ment, such  as  he  always  evinced  at  any  sign  that 
the  censer  might  cease  to  swing. 

"  It  isn't  a  simple  matter  of  duty.  It's  a 
much  more  complicated  matter  of  ability,"  the 
judge  said  sternly. 

"  Pardon  me,  sir,  but  it  really  does  not  seem 
to  me  such  a  difficult  place  to  fill,"  said  William, 


LOVE   CLAIMS   HIS  OWN  315 

loftily.  "  In  this,  as  in  any  other  position  of  life, 
the  man  who  is  influenced  solely  by  the  pro- 
foundest  and  most  conscientious  conviction,  and 
who  is  firm  in  following  his  convictions,  can 
hardly  go  far  astray." 

The  judge  looked  at  him  over  his  big  specta- 
cles in  perplexed,  troubled  silence  for  a  moment. 
So  gazing,  he  gave  the  old  impatient  toss  of  his 
tousled  head,  and  the  old  quizzical  look  came 
under  his  suddenly  uplifted  eyebrow. 

"  All  right,  William  !  "  he  said  at  last,  almost 
immediately  lapsing  into  silence,  and  presently 
beginning  to  nod. 

Philip  Alston  scarcely  glanced  at  the  judge 
and  his  nephew.  He  was  looking  at  Ruth,  and 
noting  with  adoring  eyes  that  her  beauty  had 
blossomed  like  some  rare  flower  of  late.  It 
seemed  to  him  that  the  roses  on  her  fair  cheeks 
were  of  a  more  exquisite,  yet  brighter  tint,  that 
her  eyes  were  bluer  and  brighter  and  softer  than 
ever.  There  also  appeared  to  be  a  new  maturity 
in  the  delicate  curves  of  her  graceful  figure.  But 
there  was  no  change  in  the  childlike  affection  of  her 
bearing  toward  him.  She  clung  round  him  just 
as  she  had  always  done,  and  when  she  turned  to 
leave  his  side  to  take  a  chair,  he  called  her  back, 
unconsciously  falling  into  the  tone  of  fond  play- 
fulness that  he  had  used  in  her  childhood. 

"  If  a  little  girl  about  your  size  were  to  come 
and  look  in  her  uncle's  pockets,  she  might  find 
something  that  she  would  like  —  " 


316  ROUND   ANVIL   ROCK 

Ruth  did  not  wait  for  him  to  finish  what  he 
was  saying,  but  ran  to  him  as  if  she  had  been  the 
little  toddler  of  other  days,  needing  only  the  sight 
of  his  dear  face,  or  the  sound  of  his  kind  voice, 
to  fly  into  his  outstretched  arms.  In  a  moment 
more  her  eager  hands  were  swiftly  searching  his 
pockets,  and  making  believe  to  have  great  diffi- 
culty in  finding  the  hidden  treasure.  She  knew 
all  the  while  where  it  was,  but  she  also  knew  that 
he  liked  her  to  be  a  long  time  in  getting  it  out. 
His  worshipping  eyes  looked  down  on  her  hands 
fluttering  like  white  doves  about  his  heart,  —  for 
it  was  hard  to  keep  away  from  that  inner  breast 
pocket  —  and  at  last,  when  she  could  not  wait  any 
longer,  she  went  deep  down  in  it,  arid  drew  out  a  flat 
packet.  This  looked  as  if  it  had  travelled  a  long 
distance.  There  were  many  wrappings  around  it, 
and  many  seals  and  foreign  marks  were  stamped 
upon  it.  She  laid  it  on  his  knee,  and  pretended 
to  shake  him,  when  he  made  out  that  he  meant 
to  take  time  to  untie  the  cords  which  bound  the 
wrappings,  instead  of  cutting  them.  And  when 
he  had  cut  the  cords  with  his  pen-knife,  the  wrap- 
pings fell  off,  disclosing  a  jewel  case  of  white 
satin  richly  wrought  in  gold.  At  the  quick  touch 
of  her  fingers  the  lid  of  the  case  flew  up,  reveal- 
ing a  long  string  of  large  pearls,  —  great  frozen 
drops  of  the  rainbow,  wrapped  in  silvery  white 
mist,  —  treasures  that  a  queen  might  have 
coveted. 

The  girl    did  not   know  how   wonderful    the 


LOVE  CLAIMS   HIS  OWN  317 

pearls  were  and  had  not  the  faintest  conception 
of  their  value.  But  she  saw  their  beauty  and 
felt  their  charm,  for  a  beautiful  woman  loves  and 
longs  for  the  jewels  that  belong  to  her  beauty, 
as  naturally  as  the  rose  loves  and  longs  to  gather 
and  keep  the  dewdrops  in  its  heart. 

"  Oh  !  Oh  !  "  was  all  that  she  could  say,  and  she 
could  think  of  nothing  to  do,  except  stand  on  tip- 
toe and  touch  Philip  Alston's  cheek  with  a  butter- 
fly kiss.  And  then  when  he  had  put  the  string 
of  pearls  around  her  neck,  so  that  it  swung  far 
down  over  her  rounded  young  bosom,  she  danced 
across  the  room  to  the  largest  mirror.  But  the 
corner  in  which  it  hung  was  always  full  of  shadows 
and  so  dark  on  this  gloomy  day  that  she  could  not 
see,  and  with  pretty  imperiousness  she  called  for 
candles  to  be  lighted  and  brought  to  her.  William 
Pressley  mechanically  got  up  to  obey,  but  Philip 
Alston  moved  more  quickly.  Going  to  the  hearth 
he  took  two  candles  from  the  mantelpiece,  lit  them 
at  the  fire,  and  carried  them  to  her.  He  expected 
to  have  the  pleasure  of  holding  them  so  that  she 
might  see  the  lovely  vision,  which  he  was  already 
looking  upon.  But  she  took  them  from  his  hands 
and  raising  them  high  above  her  head,  danced 
back  to  the  mirror,  and  stood  gazing  at  her  own 
image,  as  artlessly  as  a  lily  bends  over  its  shadow 
in  a  crystal  pool.  And  as  she  thus  gazed  in  the 
mirror,  it  suddenly  reflected  something  which 
moved  her  more  than  her  own  likeness.  It  showed 
her  the  opening  of  the  front  door,  and  gave  her  a 


318  ROUND   ANVIL   ROCK 

glimpse  of  her  lover  standing  in  the  room.  She 
whirled  round,  blushing,  and  with  her  eyes 
shining  like  stars,  and  cried  out :  — 

"  See,  Paul !  See  —  was  there  ever  anything 
so  lovely  ?  " 

She  went  swiftly  toward  him,  holding  the 
candles  still  higher,  so  that  the  pearls  caught 
a  rosy  lustre  from  the  light  that  fell  on  her 
radiant  face.  She  was  laughing  with  pure  delight 
at  the  sight  of  him,  forgetting  the  pearls.  She  did 
not  know  that  she  had  called  him  by  his  Chris- 
tian name  but  she  would  have  called  him  so,  had 
she  taken  time  to  think.  She  had  called  him  so 
ever  since  they  had  known  that  they  loved  each 
other,  and  she  did  not  stop  to  realize  that  this 
was  the  first  time  they  had  met  in  the  pres- 
ence of  others  since  becoming  plighted  lovers. 
She  realized  nothing  except  his  presence  —  that 
alone  filled  her  whole  world  with  joy  and  content. 
He  came  straight  to  meet  her,  holding  out  his 
hands  ;  but  before  he  could  cross  the  great  room, 
or  even  had  time  to  speak,  Philip  Alston  stepped 
forward  and  spoke  suddenly  in  clear  tones  :  — 

"  Yes,  see  the  wedding  gift !  The  bridal  pearls 
are  here  at  last ;  all  ready  for  Christmas  Eve." 

Paul  Colbert  paused.  He  was  an  ardent  and 
bold  lover,  but  the  words  were  like  a  breath  of 
frost  on  love's  flowering.  No  ardor,  no  confidence, 
can  keep  a  sensitive  man  from  feeling  a  chill  when 
he  sees  the  woman  he  loves  decked  in  the  beautiful 
things  which  are  beauty's  birthright,  and  realizes 


LOVE   CLAIMS   HIS   OWN  319 

for  the  first  time  that  he  cannot  give  them  to 
her.  With  the  painful  shock  which  this  feeling 
brought  to  the  young  doctor  there  was  a  greater 
shock  in  the  sudden  thought  of  the  possible  source 
of  the  riches  which  the  pearls  represented.  A  feel- 
ing of  horror  rushed  over  him,  as  if  he  had  seen 
that  soft,  white  throat  encircled  by  a  serpent, 
and  he  sprang  forward  to  tear  it  off. 

Ruth  had  turned  her  head  to  look  at  Philip 
Alston,  with  a  start  of  surprise  and  a  little  dis- 
quietude, but  without  fear  or  distrust.  She 
could  not  believe  that  he  would  wish  her  to 
marry  William  after  he  knew  that  she  loved 
Paul ;  such  a  thought  never  crossed  her  mind. 
Yet,  as  she  looked,  a  strange  feeling  of  alarm 
which  she  did  not  comprehend  swept  over 
her,  filling  her  with  formless  terror.  Some 
instinct  made  her  shrink,  as  if  this  wonderful 
string  of  pearls,  which  she  had  thought  so  beau- 
tiful a  moment  before,  had  turned  into  a  cruel 
chain  and  was  binding  her  fast.  She  did  not 
know  that  many  a  weaker  man  has  thus  bound 
many  a  stronger  woman  with  chains  of  gold  and 
ropes  of  pearls.  But  she  felt  it,  and  her  instinct 
was  quicker  than  her  lover's  thought.  Had  her 
hands  been  free  she  would  have  thrown  the 
fetters  from  her,  and  finding  herself  helpless, 
she  turned  to  Paul  Colbert  for  help. 

«  Take  them  off !  Quick  —  quick  !  They  are 
too  heavy,"  she  gasped. 

It  was   Philip  Alston  who  reached  her  first, 


320  SOUND  ANVIL  BOOK 

and  took  the  pearls  from  her  neck  and  the  can- 
dles from  her  hands ;  but  she  did  not  look  at 
him,  and  went  to  her  lover  as  if  he  had  called 
her.  Paul's  arm  going  out  to  meet  her  drew  her 
to  his  side,  and  then,  as  the  young  couple  thus 
stood  close  together,  the  truth  was  plain  enough 
to  every  one  whose  eyes  rested  upon  them.  Philip 
Alston's  face  turned  very  white,  and  he  made  a 
movement  as  if  he  would  spring  between  them 
and  part  them  by  force.  But  he  checked  the  im- 
pulse, after  that  uncontrollable  start,  and  stood 
still,  bearing  in  enforced  silence,  and  as  best  he 
could,  as  hard  a  trial  as  love  ever  put  before 
pride.  William  Pressley  also  stood  still  and 
silent,  suffering  bitterer  pangs  through  his 
wounded  self-love  than  love  itself  ever  could  have 
inflicted  upon  him.  Judge  Knox  straightened  up 
from  his  doze  in  bewildered  astonishment,  and 
made  a  displeased  exclamation,  but  it  passed  un- 
heard. The  old  ladies  by  the  hearth  were  dumb 
with  amazement.  The  boy  stood  unnoticed  in 
his  dark  corner  under  the  stairs. 

The  young  doctor  now  began  to  speak  delib- 
erately, calmly,  and  clearly,  being  fully  prepared 
with  every  word  that  he  wished  to  utter.  He 
told  the  whole  story  with  the  simple  directness 
that  was  natural  to  him.  He  explained  why  he 
had  not  spoken  sooner,  and  dwelt  upon  Ruth's 
scruples  because  he  wished  her  position  to  be 
fully  understood,  not  because  he  felt  it  neces- 
sary to  excuse  anything  upon  his  own  account. 


LOVE  CLAIMS  HIS  OWN  321 

When  he  had  said  everything  that  he  thought 
should  be  said,  and  when  he  had  spoken  modestly 
and  proudly  of  their  love  for  each  other,  he  went 
on  to  make  frank  mention  of  his  affairs,  his 
family,  and  his  place  in  life.  And  then  he  turned 
to  the  judge  :  — 

"  There  is,  as  you  see,  sir,  no  reason  why  I 
should  not  ask  you  to  give  her  to  me,"  he  said 
with  a  boyish  blush  dyeing  his  handsome  young 
face,  «  since  I  have  been  so  honored,  so  happy, 
and  so  fortunate  as  to  win  her  consent.  I  am 
ready  and  eager  to  tell  you  anything  else  that 
you  may  wish  to  know,  sir." 

The  judge  lurched  heavily  out  of  his  chair 
and  rose  unsteadily  to  his  feet  in  the  sudden, 
angry  excitement  that  flames  out  of  drink. 

"By  — !  'Pon  my  soul,  young  sir,  you  are 
taking  a  high  hand  in  my  house.  Keep  your 
place,  sir,  keep  your  place !  Who  are  you  that 
come  here  putting  your  hand  on  my  niece,  and 
ordering  the  family  about?  Come  to  me,  Ruth  ! 
Come  to  me  instantly  !  " 

Philip  Alston  laid  a  restraining  hand  on  his 
arm,  and  even  William  Pressley  uttered  a  warn- 
ing word.  In  the  presence  of  the  girl  there  must 
not  be  a  violent  word,  much  less  a  violent  deed, 
no  matter  what  the  feelings  of  the  men  might  be, 
and  no  matter  what  might  come  after.  That 
was  the  first  article  in  the  code  of  chivalry  tow- 
ard women  which  ruled  these  first  Kentuck- 
ians,  as  it  rules  most  brave,  strong  men  living 


322  ROUND  ANVIL   ROCK 

simple,  strenuous  lives  in  the  open.  It  ruled  the 
judge  also,  as  soon  as  he  had  time  to  think,  and 
controlled  him  through  all  the  fog  that  clouded 
his  faculties. 

"My  dear,"  he  appealed  humbly,  piteously, 
bending  his  rough  gray  head  before  the  girl, 
"  I  beg  your  pardon." 

She  flew  to  him  and  ran  her  arm  through  his, 
thus  ranging  herself  on  his  side  with  a  fiery  air 
of  loyalty,  and  she  turned  on  her  lover  with 
her  soft  eyes  flashing :  — 

"  How  can  you,  Paul !  I  am  surprised.  I 
wouldn't  have  believed  it  of  you.  What  do 
you  mean  by  speaking  so  to  my  uncle  Robert  ? 
Don't  you  see  he  isn't  well?  You  must  know 
that  when  he  is  well  everybody  respects  and 
looks  up  to  him  —  that  the  whole  county  depends 
on  him,"  she  said. 

The  old  judge  and  the  young  doctor  looked 
at  each  other  over  her  head  as  men  look  at  one 
another  when  women  do  things  as  true  to  their 
nature  as  this  was  to  hers.  And  then,  in  spite  of 
themselves,  the  judge's  left  eyebrow  went  up  very 
high,  and  a  sunny  smile  brightened  the  doctor's 
grave  face.  Even  Philip  Alston  smiled  and  felt 
a  sudden  relief.  With  such  a  child  as  Ruth 
had  just  shown  herself  to  be,  there  must  be 
some  hope  of  leading  her  by  gentleness  and  per- 
suasion. There  was,  at  least,  a  chance  to  gain 
time,  and  he  moved  eagerly  to  seize  it.  He 
looked  at  William  Pressley  with  an  expression 


LOVE  CLAIMS   HIS   OWN  323 

of  undisguised  contempt,  seeing  him  stand  utterly 
unmoved.  He  could  not  help  giving  a  glance  of 
scorn,  which  measured  him  against  Paul  Colbert. 
Who  could  blame  the  girl  ?  Nevertheless  Philip 
Alston  went  to  her  and  took  her  hand  from  the 
judge's  arm,  and  placed  it  within  his  own. 
Holding  it  fast  against  his  side,  he  turned  to 
the  doctor. 

"  It  might  be  best  for  all  concerned  if  you 
would  allow  us  to  talk  this  matter  over  quietly 
among  ourselves.  We  hardly  know  what  to 
say,  having  it  sprung  in  this  totally  unexpected 
way.  If  you  would  be  so  kind  as  to  leave  us 
for  the  present  —  " 

The  doctor  had  drawn  himself  up  to  his  full 
height.  He  was  about  to  say  that  he  recog- 
nized no  right  on  the  part  of  Philip  Alston  to 
interfere,  and  to  declare  that  he  held  himself  ac- 
countable to  no  one  but  the  judge.  Yet  as  this  pur- 
pose formed,  his  gaze  instinctively  sought  Ruth's, 
and  he  saw  that  she  was  looking  up  at  Philip 
Alston  with  love  —  unmistakable  love  —  in  her 
face.  The  sight  brought  back  all  the  helplessness 
that  he  always  felt  when  forced  to  realize  her 
fondness  for  the  man.  He  felt  as  he  might  have 
done  had  he  seen  some  deadly  thing  coiled  about 
her  so  closely  that  he  could  not  strike  it  with- 
out wounding  her  tender  breast.  The  trouble 
had  been  like  that  from  the  first  and  it  was 
like  that  now  —  perhaps  it  always  would  be. 
He  did  not  know  what  to  do  or  say,  with 


324  ROUND   ANVIL   ROCK 

her  blue  eyes  appealing  from  him  to  Philip 
Alston.  He  was  glad  when  William  Pressley 
broke  the  silence.  The  young  lawyer  had  been 
thinking  hard ;  he  never  did  anything  on  mere 
impulse.  He  always  stopped  to  consider  how 
a  thing  would  look,  no  matter  how  angry  he 
might  be.  His  vanity  had  been  slowly  swallowing 
a  bitter  morsel,  and  it  was  now  quite  clear  to  him 
that  he  must  act  promptly  in  order  to  escape 
a  still  bitterer  humiliation.  Moreover,  the  chief 
consideration  which  had  kept  him  from  allowing 
Ruth  to  break  the  engagement  sooner,  was  now 
removed.  Philip  Alston  could  hardly  blame 
him  in  view  of  what  had  happened ;  no  one 
could  think  ill  of  him  now. 

"  Just  a  moment,  if  you  please,"  he  said 
coldly  and  bitterly,  addressing  all  who  were 
present.  "  There  is  no  cause  for  delay  or  hesi- 
tation so  far  as  I  can  see  —  certainly  there  need 
be  none  on  my  account.  The  engagement  be- 
tween Ruth  and  myself  was  tacitly  broken  some 
weeks  ago.  She  has  been  over-scrupulous  in 
thinking  that  anything  was  due  me.  She  was 
quite  free  from  any  promise  to  me.  You  owe  me 
nothing,"  turning  to  her  with  a  bow.  "You 
have  my  best  wishes." 

She  went  to  him,  holding  out  her  hand. 
"  William,  it  hurts  me  to  hear  you  speak 
like  that.  I  did  my  best  to  tell  you  —  alone  — 
and  earlier.  We  were  both  mistaken  —  neither 
was  to  blame.  There  surely  is  no  reason  for 


LOVE  CLAIMS   HIS  OWN  325 

hard  feeling.  My  affection  for  you  is  just  the 
same.  William,  dear  —  just  for  old  time's  sake." 

He  took  her  hand,  not  because  her  loving 
gentleness  won  his  forgiveness,  but  because  he 
thought  that  no  gentleman  could  refuse  a  lady's 
hand.  And  when  she  turned  away  with  a  long 
sigh  and  quivering  lips,  he  stood  firm  and  in- 
vincible, supported  by  the  conviction  that  he 
alone  of  all  those  present  had  been  right  in 
everything.  And  such  a  conviction  of  one's 
own  infallibility  must  be  a  very  great  support 
under  life's  trials  and  disappointments.  There 
can  hardly  be  any  other  armor  so  nearly  impene- 
trable to  all  those  barbed  doubts  and  fears 
which  perpetually  assail  and  wound  the  un- 
armored.  Think  of  what  it  must  mean  !  —  never 
to  feel  that  you  might  have  been  kinder  or  more 
just,  or  more  generous  or  more  merciful  than 
you  were ;  never  to  have  doubts  and  fears  come 
knocking,  knocking,  knocking  at  your  heart  till 
you  are  compelled  to  see  your  mistakes  when 
it  is  too  late  to  do  what  was  left  undone,  and  — 
saddest  and  bitterest  of  all — too  late  to  undo 
what  was  done. 

But  no  one  except  Ruth  looked  at  William 
Pressley  or  thought  of  him.  Philip  Alston  calmly 
and  courteously  repeated  his  request,  and  with 
Ruth's  gaze  urging  it,  Paul  Colbert  could  not 
refuse  to  grant  it.  He  took  up  his  hat  and  went 
toward  the  door  with  Ruth  walking  by  his 
side.  And  then,  with  his  hand  on  the  latch,  he 


J 


$ 

I  _ 

326  ROUND   ANVIL   ROCK 

paused  and  turned,  and  looking  over  her  head, 
gazed  steadily  and  meaningly  into  the  eyes  of 
the  three  men.  He  looked  first  and  longest 
at  Philip  Alston ;  then  at  William  Pressley,  and 
finally  at  the  judge,  with  a  slight  change  of  ex- 
pression. To  each  one  of  the  three  men  his  look 
said  as  plainly  as  if  it  had  been  put  into  words, 
that  he  held  himself  ready  for  anything  and 
everything  that  any  or  all  of  them  might  have 
to  say  to  him  —  out  of  her  sight  and  hearing 
and  knowledge.  And  they,  in  turn,  understood, 
for  that  was  the  way  of  their  country,  of  their 
time,  and  their  kind ;  and  having  done  this  he 
went  quietly  away. 


XXIV 

OLD    LOVE'S    STRIVING    WITH    YOUNG    LOVE 

THAT  night  Philip  Alston  stayed  later  than 
usual  at  Cedar  House.  He  was  waiting  for  the 
others  to  go  to  bed,  so  that  he  might  have  a 
quiet  talk  with  Ruth.  On  one  or  two  rare  occa- 
sions they  had  been  left  alone  together  before  the 
wide  hearth,  and  they  both  looked  back  on  these 
times  as  among  the  pleasantest  they  had  ever 
known.  But  the  opportunities  for  privacy  are 
very  few  where  there  is  only  one  living  room  for 
an  entire  family,  and  the  size  and  publicity  of 
this  great  room  of  Cedar  House  made  them 
fewer  than  they  could  have  been  in  almost  any 
other  household.  And  Ruth,  seeing  what  he 
wished,  was  looking  forward  now  with  even 
greater  delight  than  she  had  felt  heretofore ; 
the  delight  that  young  love  feels  at  the  thought 
of  giving  its  first  confidence  to  a  loving,  sympa- 
thetic heart.  She  looked  at  him  often  through 
the  waiting,  with  shining  eyes,  so  happy,  so 
eager  to  ask  him  to  share  her  happiness  that 
she  could  hardly  wait  till  the  others  were 
gone.  William  Pressley  did  not  tax  her  patience 
long  and  the  judge,  too,  soon  went  away  to  his 

327 


328  ROUND  ANVIL  ROCK 

cabin  with  David  to  see  that  he  reached  it 
safely.  The  old  ladies  were  slower  in  going; 
Miss  Penelope  had  many  domestic  duties  to  per- 
form, and  the  movements  of  the  widow  Broad- 
nax  were  always  governed  entirely  by  hers.  But 
they,  also,  went  at  last  with  Ruth  to  assist  the 
stouter  lady  in  getting  up  the  stairs. 

The  girl  came  flying  down  again,  with  her  eyes 
dancing  and  her  heart  playing  a  tune.  Philip 
Alston  rose  as  she  approached,  and  stood  await- 
ing her  with  a  look  on  his  face  that  she  had 
never  seen  before. 

"  You  are  tired,  dear  uncle  Philip,"  she  said, 
taking  his  hand  and  holding  it  against  her  cheek 
as  she  raised  her  radiant  eyes  to  his  face. 
« Come  to  the  fire  and  take  this  big  chair.  I 
will  sit  on  the  footstool  at  your  knee.  There, 
now !  You  can  rest  and  be  happy.  Isn't  it 
sweet  to  be  alone  —  just  you  and  I  —  together 
like  this !  I  love  you  so  dearly,  dear  uncle 
Philip.  It  seems  as  if  I  had  never  before  really 
known  just  how  much  I  do  love  you.  It  seems 
as  if  my  heart  couldn't  hold  quite  all  the  hap- 
piness that  fills  it  to-night.  And  the  tenderness 
filling  it  to  the  brim  brings  a  new  feeling  of  your 
goodness  to  me." 

She  had  taken  the  low  seat  by  his  side,  and 
now  laid  her  head  down  on  his  knee.  He 
stroked  her  hair  with  an  unsteady  hand,  sorely 
troubled  and  not  knowing  what  to  say.  He 
suddenly  looked  very  old,  and  felt  more  helpless 


OLD  LOVE'S  STRIVING  WITH  YOUNG  LOVE    329 

than  ever  before  in  his  life.  Looking  down  on 
this  beautiful  head  he  realized  in  every  sensitive 
fibre  of  his  soul  and  body  that  this  lovely  young 
creature,  clinging  to  his  knee,  was  the  one  thing  in 
the  whole  world  that  he  had  ever  loved  —  deeply, 
truly,  purely,  and  unselfishly ;  that  her  gentle  heart 
was  the  only  heart  out  of  all  the  hearts  beating 
on  the  earth  that  had  ever  loved  him  as  the  in- 
nocent love  the  good.  Thinking  of  this  he  shrank 
and  trembled,  feeling  that  he  held  in  his  grasp 
a  fragile  treasure  precious  beyond  all  price, 
which  a  rude  touch  might  destroy  forever.  He 
knew  the  evil  reputation  which  rumor  had 
given  him,  and  he  had  seen  that  Paul  Colbert 
believed  the  worst.  There  had  been  no  disguise 
in  the  expression  of  the  young  doctor's  eyes.  His 
gaze  bold  and  keen  as  an  unhooded  falcon's, 
had  frankly  proclaimed  his  dislike  and  mistrust, 
making  it  only  too  plain  that  he  asked  no  favor 
by  pretending  ignorance  or  on  the  score  of  any 
friendliness  that  he  did  not  feel.  His  look  and 
attitude  had  indeed  been  so  unmistakable  that 
Philip  Alston  now  wondered  in  sudden  terror  if 
she  had  not  already  observed  them,  and  he  — 
who  had  feared  nothing  in  all  his  life  —  quailed 
and  quivered  before  this  sudden  fear  with  abject 
cowardice.  In  another  moment  he  knew  that 
her  trust  in  him  had  not  been  shaken ;  the  rest- 
ing of  her  head  on  his  knee  told  him  so  much. 
But  how  long  would  it  or  could  it  stand  against 
the  doubts  of  the  man  she  loved  ?  That  was  the 


330  ROUND  ANVIL   ROCK 

question  which  went  through  Philip  Alston's 
breast  like  the  thrust  of  a  sword.  Her  husband's 
influence  would  be  supreme.  A  tender,  gentle 
creature,  she  would  be  easily  influenced  through 
her  affections.  The  young  doctor  might  keep 
silence,  seeing  her  love  for  himself  and  respecting 
her  regard  for  her  foster-father ;  but  he  was  not 
the  man  to  hide  what  he  really  thought  and 
felt,  and  she  must  divine  the  truth  before  long. 
Philip  Alston  had  no  hope  of  changing  Paul 
Colbert's  opinion  of  himself ;  he  knew  the  world 
and  mankind  too  well  to  think  for  a  moment 
that  any  man  might  hope  to  live  down  such 
charges  as  those  which  had  been  brought  against 
himself.  Ruth  must  know  sooner  or  later,  and, 
knowing,  would  she  still  love  him  ?  There  came 
now  a  sort  of  piteous  appeal  in  the  touch  of  his 
unsteady  hand  on  her  hair.  The  slightest  sus- 
picion must  blast  the  exquisite  flower  of  her 
tender  love.  With  his  quick,  full  apprecia- 
tion of  everything  truly  noble  he  had  often 
noted  the  firm  principles,  which  lay  under 
her  sweet  gentleness  like  fine  white  marble 
under  soft  green  moss.  He  did  not  know  that 
this  very  trait  for  which  he  had  loved  her,  and 
which  now  made  him  afraid,  had  already  been 
tested  again  and  again ;  and  that  her  love  for 
him  and  trust  in  him,  had  stood  against  every 
attack  as  firmly  as  great  rocks  stand  against 
shallow  waves.  No,  he  knew  nothing  of  all  this, 
and  he  was  now  in  such  desperate  fear  that  he 


OLD  LOVE'S  STRIVING  WITH  YOUNG  LOVE    331 

dared  not  speak  or  move  or  do  anything  but 
stroke  her  hair  with  a  shaking  hand,  and  stare 
over  her  head  at  the  fire  trying  to  clear  his  mind. 
She  had  been  silent  also,  but  presently  she  spoke, 
putting  up  her  hand  to  pat  the  one  that  was 
stroking  her  hair. 

"  I  am  waiting,  dear  heart,  "  she  said  softly, 
"  waiting  to  hear  what  you  think  of  my  Paul. 
I  have  been  wanting  so  long  to  tell  you ;  it  was  on 
account  of  William  that  I  waited.  But  you  know 
now,  and  I  am  so  glad  —  so  glad  !  Tell  me  what 
you  think  of  him.  There  is  no  one  but  you 
who  can  see  all  that  he  is.  And  there  is  no  one 
but  him  who  can  see  all  that  you  are.  But  you 
two,  my  dearest,  are  capable  of  appreciating 
each  other.  And  I  am  a  happy,  happy  girl." 

He  was  feeling  faint  and  sick  under  the  hope- 
lessness of  any  struggle  between  old  love  and 
young  love.  With  every  look  of  her  radiant 
eyes,  with  every  gentle  word  that  fell  from  her 
sweet  lips,  he  was  feeling  more  and  more  how 
utterly  useless  would  be  any  attempt  to  come 
between  her  and  her  lover.  And  looking  at  her 
he  could  not  think  of  making  any  such  attempt. 
When  an  all-absorbing  love  has  taken  complete 
possession  of  an  empty  and  worldly  heart,  that 
heart  becomes  more  powerless  before  that  love, 
than  a  fuller  and  softer  heart  ever  does.  He 
could  not  speak,  but  he  murmured  something 
and  she  went  on  :  — 

"  How  sweet  it  is  to  be  here  alone  with  you, 


332  ROUND   ANVIL   ROCK 

like  this,  in  the  dear,  dark,  big,  old  room.  Why, 
uncle,  dear,  it  seems  only  yesterday  that  you 
were  rocking  me  in  my  cradle,  over  there  in  the 
chimney-corner ;  when  you  were  already  petting 
and  spoiling  me,  just  as  you  have  always  done. 
And  to  think  that  I  am  talking  to  you  to-night 
about  my  Paul !  Can  you  realize  that  it's  true  ? 
Well,  it  is  —  the  very  truest  thing  in  all  the 
world." 

She  paused  for  a  moment,  but  she  did  not 
observe  that  he  made  no  response,  and  she  began 
again :  — 

"You  see,  dear  uncle,  I  didn't  mean  to  love 
him.  I  meant  to  love  William  and  I  did  in  a 
way  as  I  do  now.  He  is  such  a  good  man,  but 
I  have  found  out  that  goodness,  just  by  itself,  is 
not  enough.  It  may  make  love  last,  but  it  can't 
make  it  begin.  Why,  I  never  even  thought 
whether  my  Paul  was  good  or  not.  I  must  have 
loved  him  just  the  same." 

"  But  you  couldn't  love  a  man  if  you  found 
out  that  he  was  bad,  after  believing  him  to  be 
good.  It  wouldn't  be  possible  for  you  to  do 
that,  would  it  ?  "  in  strange,  agitated  haste. 

She  lifted  her  head  and  looked  at  him  won- 
deringly.  "  I  don't  know  what  you  mean.  My 
Paul  is  good!  Why,  he  is  here  in  the  wilder- 
ness solely  for  love  of  humanity,  giving  his 
strength,  his  skill,  his  time,  and  all  that  he  has 
to  the  service  of  his  country  and  his  kind,  just 
because  he  is  good,  and  for  no  other  reason. 


OLD  LOVE'S  STRIVING  WITH  YOUNG  LOVE    333 

There  is  no  better  man  living,  not  even  Father 
Orin,  not  even  you,  sir,"  throwing  her  arms 
around  his  knee  and  giving  it  a  loving  squeeze. 
"  And  you  know  it,  too,  you  are  only  laughing  at 
me.  I  don't  mind  at  all.  I  am  too  happy  to 
care  for  teasing." 

She  laid  her  head  back  on  his  knees  and  fell 
happily  silent,  gazing  dreamily  into  the  flames. 
The  wind  was  rising,  and  went  roaring  through 
the  trees  around  the  house ;  but  she  heard  it  with 
the  peaceful  feeling  of  shelter  and  safety  that 
only  happiness  feels  in  wild  weather.  Presently 
she  asked  him  if  he  thought  that  souls  could 
speak  to  one  another. 

"It  was  at  Anvil  Rock,"  she  said  as  simply 
as  if  she  had  been  thinking  aloud.  "  I  had  never 
thought  about  loving  him.  He  had  never  told 
me  that  he  loved  me,  but  I  knew  then  that  he 
did.  Something  told  me  while  he  was  lying  on 
the  ground  like  a  dead  man.  What  do  you 
think  it  could  have  been  ?  What  was  it  ?  " 

Looking  up  she  saw  the  shrinking  in  his 
face,  and  she  thought  it  came  from  his  dislike 
of  any  mention  of  painful  subjects;  but  her 
whole  heart  was  in  this  question  so  that  she 
could  not  let  it  go  without  pressing  it  a  little 
further. 

«  But  tell  me,  dearest,  can  souls  communicate 
without  speech  or  sign  —  if  they  only  love 
enough?"  she  urged. 

«  You  are  a  fanciful,  romantic  child,"  he  said, 


334  ROUND   ANVIL   ROCK 

trying  to  smile  and  to  speak  lightly.  "  Why 
—  the  man  was  an  utter  stranger  then  —  you 
didn't  know  him  at  all." 

He  had  taken  her  chin  in  his  hand,  and  his 
eyes  were  now  looking  steadily  into  hers ;  but 
the  courage  of  the  moment  fled  when  she  invol- 
untarily drew  away.  He  was  alarmed  at  the 
effect  of  this  one  slight  effort. 

"  Such  things  are  too  subtle  for  an  old  man, 
my  child,  too  subtle,  perhaps,  for  any  man  either 
young  or  old,"  he  said  hurriedly  and  confusedly. 
"You  women  see  and  feel  many  things  that  fly 
high  above  our  heads.  And  then  I  am  duller 
than  usual  to-night.  I  am  anxious  about  busi- 
ness matters.  The  river  is  rising  rapidly,  there  is 
danger  of  a  disastrous  flood.  My  boats  are  not 
in  safe  places,  and  worst  of  all  the  Cold  Plague 
broke  out  to-day  on  one  of  them.  The  boat  is 
tied  up  to  the  island.  I  sent  it  over  there  imme- 
diately so  that  you,  and  the  rest  of  the  family, 
might  be  in  no  danger  from  the  spread  of  the 
epidemic.  But  it  worries  me,  and  one  of  the 
boatmen  is  said  to  be  dying." 

"  Send  for  my  Paul.  He  can  cure  him.  The 
plague-stricken  hardly  ever  die  if  he  can  get  to 
them  in  time." 

She  said  this  with  a  pretty  air  of  pride  in  her 
lover,  and  a  gentle  lift  of  her  head.  He  made  no 
reply,  and  she  turned  her  eyes  from  the  fire  to 
his  face  to  see  why  he  was  silent  so  long.  He 
was  pale  with  a  strange  gray  pallor,  and  he  met 


OLD  LOVE'S  STRIVING  WITH  YOUNG  LOVE    335 

her  gaze  with  a  startled,  alarmed  look.  It  was 
the  look  of  a  man  who  blanches  and  shrinks 
before  some  sudden  great  temptation.  She  mis- 
read the  look,  taking  it  for  unwillingness  to  send 
for  her  lover. 

«  You  mustn't  think  of  sending  for  Doctor  Col- 
bert if  you  prefer  the  other  doctor,"  with  swift, 
fiery  jealousy.  "  But  I  warn  you  that  if  you  do, 
the  man  will  certainly  die." 

"Do  you  know  where  he  is  to  be  found  in 
case  I  should  want  to  send  for  him  ? "  he  said 
after  a  moment's  silence,  and  with  constraint 
and  hesitation. 

"  He  is  riding  so  much  that  it  is  hard  to  tell ; 
but,  uncle,  dear,"  melting  and  putting  her  arms 
about  him,  "I  should  not  be  really  offended,  of 
course,  if  you  were  to  send  for  the  other  doctor. 
You  can,  dear,  if  you  want  to.  I  like  him  ever 
so  much  better  myself,  since  he  took  such  good 
care  of  my  Paul." 

He  laughed  uneasily  and  got  up,  saying  that  he 
was  going  to  see  about  the  trouble  on  the  boat. 
He  saw  that  he  must  have  a  cleared  mind  and 
steadied  nerves  with  time  to  think.  And  he  could 
not  think  in  her  presence,  he  could  only  feel  her 
blue  eyes  on  his  face  and  her  little  hands  clasped 
around  his  knee  or  about  his  arm.  He  tried 
not  to  look  at  her,  and  hurriedly  began  button- 
ing his  coat  before  starting  on  his  cold  way 
home.  In  drawing  his  coat  closer,  his  hand 
came  in  contact  with  the  pearls  which  he  had 


336  ROUND  ANVIL   ROCK 

forgotten.  He  drew  them  out  and  hung  them 
again  around  her  neck.  She  thanked  him  with 
a  smile,  but  he  saw  that  she  scarcely  looked  at 
them,  that  she  was  thinking  only  of  her  love  and 
her  lover,  though  she  held  his  hand  and  walked 
beside  him  to  the  front  door. 

From  it  they  could  see  dimly  and  were  able  to 
make  out  the  black  bulk  of  the  boat  lying  far  out 
in  the  river  beside  the  island.  As  he  looked  at  it 
a  feeling  of  the  worthlessness  of  all  that  he  owned 
swept  over  him,  overwhelming  him  with  despair. 
All  the  gold  that  he  had  gathered,  or  ever  could 
gather,  would  be  worthless  yellow  dust  if  he 
might  not  use  it  to  give  her  comfort  or  pleasure 
or  happiness.  He  realized  suddenly  that  this 
was  everything  that  his  riches  had  meant  to 
him  ever  since  she  had  wound  herself  around 
his  heart.  Money  could  do  little  for  him  ;  he  was 
weary  and  old  and  sad  and  had  come  to  feel  — 
as  every  rich  man  must  come  to  feel  sooner  or 
later  —  that  for  himself  his  riches  meant,  after 
all,  only  food  and  clothes.  And  now  he  found 
himself  facing  the  end  of  the  sole  interest  and 
happiness  that  he  could  ever  hope  to  find  in  life. 
Henceforth  it  would  be  with  the  utmost  that  he 
could  do,  as  it  had  been  just  now  with  these 
pearls.  He  fully  recognized  the  hopelessness  of 
trying  to  win  her  away  from  her  lover.  That  had 
grown  plainer  with  every  gentle  word  that  she 
had  said  while  they  had  sat  before  the  fire.  And 
he  knew  that  this  proud  young  fellow,  whose 


OLD  LOVE'S  STRIVING  WITH  YOUNG  LOVE    337 

glance  had  met  his  like  the  crossing  of  swords, 
would  never  allow  her  to  touch  a  penny  of  his 
money,  or  anything  that  it  could  buy,  if  he 
could  help  it.  The  thought  was  like  tear- 
ing the  heart  out  of  his  breast,  and  another 
thought  sprang  up  again  in  defence  of  all  that 
he  held  dear.  He  began  to  breathe  quickly  and 
heavily,  like  a  man  who  has  been  running.  He 
feared  that  she  must  feel  the  plunging  of  his 
heart,  for  she  was  leaning  against  him,  looking 
out  at  the  wild,  windy  night.  But  she  heard 
only  the  mournful  wail  of  the  wind  through  the 
great  trees,  and  the  roar  of  the  river  rushing 
under  the  misty  darkness.  There  was  no  moon, 
but  the  stars  were  shining  in  the  dark  dome  of 
the  universe. 

"  I  wonder  why  the  stars  look  so  old,  while 
the  world  looks  so  new,"  she  murmured,  with  her 
head  on  his  shoulder  and  her  face  upturned.  «  I 
wonder  why  there  is  such  a  look  of  changeless- 
ness  about  the  heavens,  while  the  earth  seems 
changing  so  fast !  " 

Her  eyes  were  wandering  over  the  infinite 
starry  spaces  with  wondering  awe,  but  he  was 
looking  down  at  her  and  he  started  when  she 
cried  out  in  amazement,  touched  with  alarm. 
She  lifted  her  hand  and  pointed,  and  follow- 
ing its  direction,  he  saw  that  the  comet  had 
disappeared. 

The  celestial  visitor  was  gone  almost  as  sud- 
denly and  mysteriously  as  it  had  come. 


XXV 

THE    PASSING    OF     PHILIP  ALSTON 

THE  cold  wind  died  down  with  the  coming  of 
dawn.  Going  to  the  window  to  call  the  birds, 
she  found  the  air  grown  unseasonably  warm  and 
saw  that  it  was  filled  with  a  dull  mist.  Lean- 
ing from  the  window,  she  looked  up  the  forest 
path,  wondering  if  Paul  had  ridden  along  it  dur- 
ing the  night  on  his  way  to  the  boat.  The  low, 
broad  craft  was  still  lying  in  the  same  place  be- 
side the  island,  with  no  movement  about  it.  She 
thought  of  the  sick  man  with  pity,  wishing  that 
she  could  do  something  for  him ;  but  if  Paul  had 
been  called  in  time,  all  must  be  well  —  she  had 
not  a  doubt  of  that ;  and  an  unconscious  smile  of 
pride  touched  her  anxious  face.  She  hardly  knew 
why  she  felt  vaguely  anxious  and  uneasy,  but 
thought  that  it  might  be  on  account  of  the  gloom 
of  the  dreary  morning,  and  the  strange  look  of 
the  swollen  river.  How  gray  and  dark  it  was, 
and  how  heavily  it  ran,  almost  like  molten  lead. 

As  her  wandering  gaze  followed  the  stream, 
she  saw  something  which  was  still  grayer  and 
darker  than  the  troubled  waters.  She  could 
not  tell  at  first  what  it  was,  for  it  was  a  long 

338 


THE  PASSING  OF  PHILIP   ALSTON         339 

way  off,  and  far  up  the  river.  With  her  hands 
over  her  eyes,  she  strained  her  sight,  but  the  dis- 
tance was  too  great,  and  the  yellow  haze  too 
thick.  She  could  make  out  only  a  wide,  dark 
line,  wavering  down  from  the  woods  to  the 
water  —  a  strange,  moving  thing  without  begin- 
ning or  end  —  which  seemed  to  be  going  faster 
than  the  river.  The  strangeness  of  the  night 
alarmed  her  and  as  she  gazed  at  it,  fascinated, 
she  saw  David  running  toward  the  house  and 
waving  his  arms  to  call  her  attention. 

"  Look  !  Look  up  the  river  ! "  he  shouted  as 
soon  as  he  had  come  within  hearing.  « I  was 
afraid  you  wouldn't  see  it.  It's  an  army  of  squir- 
rels marching  steadily,  just  like  soldiers,  millions 
and  millions  of  them  !  It  has  been  like  that  for 
hours.  I  have  been  watching  it  since  daylight. 
The  squirrels  are  trying  to  cross  the  river,  and 
thousands  and  thousands  are  already  drowned. 
The  water  is  brown  with  their  bodies." 

"  The  poor  little  things  !  What  in  the  world 
can  it  mean,  David  ?  And  look  at  the  birds ! 
They  don't  come  at  all  when  I  call  them.  What 
is  the  matter  with  them  ?  I  don't  see  anything 
to  disturb  them,  yet  see  how  they  look !  And 
hear  the  waterfowl  screaming !  And  the  trees, 
too.  Why  do  the  leaves  droop  like  that  ?  How 
can  it  be  so  hot  in  December  ?  It  was  never  like 
this  before.  There  isn't  a  breath  of  air." 

«  I  have  noticed  how  strange  everything  seems. 
The  forest  is  stiller  than  I  ever  saw  it,  but  the 


340  ROUND  ANVIL   ROOK 

wild  things  that  live  in  it  are  strangely  restless. 
I  have  been  watching  them  all  the  morning,  and 
I  heard  them  in  the  night." 

"  But  what  does  it  mean,  dear  ?  Surely  some 
dreadful  thing  must  be  going  to  happen !  I 
wish  Paul  would  come.  Have  you  seen  him  ? 
He  is  always  riding,  and  the  woods  are  dangerous 
in  a  storm,  and  it  can't  be  anything  else.  Why 
don't  you  answer?  I  asked  if  you  had  seen 
him." 

The  boy  turned  from  gazing  at  the  strange, 
dark  line  which  was  still  wavering  ceaselessly 
from  the  woods  to  the  water. 

"  Yes,  I  saw  him  and  Father  Orin  going  home 
an  hour  or  so  ago.  They  had  been  out  all 
night."  He  said  this  absently,  with  his  eyes 
turning  back  to  the  wonderful  spectacle. 

"  My  Paul  is  wanted  in  many  places  at  once," 
she  said,  forgetting  her  uneasiness  in  a  woman's 
pride  in  the  power  of  the  man  she  loves.  "  But 
I  hope  he  found  time  to  visit  the  sick  man  on 
uncle  Philip's  boat,"  mindful  even  then  of  a 
woman's  wish  to  draw  together  the  men  she 
loves.  "  Can  you  see  any  clouds,  David  ?  I 
can't  —  and  yet  this  strange  yellow  vapor  that 
thickens  the  air  is  certainly  growing  heavier 
every  moment.  What  can  it  be  ?  It  isn't  at  all 
like  a  fog.  I  am  frightened.  Come  indoors.  I 
am  coming  downstairs.  Maybe  uncle  Robert 
or  William  can  tell  us  what  all  this  means." 

But  there  was  nothing  to  be  learned   in   the 


THE   PASSING   OF   PHILIP   ALSTON          341 

great  room  below.  The  men  of  the  family  were 
as  helpless  as  the  women.  All  were  waiting  and 
watching  for  some  nameless  calamity,  weighed 
down  by  that  overwhelming,  paralyzing  dread  of 
the  unknown  which  unnerves  the  bravest  and 
makes  the  most  powerful  utterly  powerless.  The 
old  ladies,  trembling  and  silent,  clung  close  to  the 
chimney-corner,  scarcely  looking  at  one  another. 
The  judge  and  his  nephew  were  sitting  in  silence 
near  the  front  door  which  had  been  opened  on 
account  of  the  sudden  heat.  They  got  up  hur- 
riedly, and  turned  nervously,  startled  even  by  the 
faint  rustle  of  Ruth's  skirts  on  the  stairs.  And  be- 
fore they  could  speak,  the  strained  stillness  was 
violently  torn  by  a  sudden  loud,  shrill  sound,  such 
as  none  of  the  terrified  listeners  had  ever  heard 
before  —  a  long,  unearthly  shriek,  which  seemed 
to  come  from  neither  brute  nor  human.  For 
a  moment  not  a  cry  was  uttered,  not  a  word 
was  spoken,  and  terrified  eyes  stared  unseeingly 
into  whitening  faces.  And  then  the  judge,  sud- 
denly realizing  what  the  sound  was,  broke  into 
shaken,  painful  laughter. 

"  It  is  the  whistle  of  the  steamboat  —  the  first 
steamboat  on  the  Ohio.  How  could  we  have  for- 
gotten ?  "  he  said.  «  It  is  the  Orleans  passing  down 
the  river.  Come  to  the  door.  We  must  see  it  go 
by.  It  doesn't  stop  here  and  none  of  us  should 
miss  seeing  it,  for  the  sight  of  the  first  steamer 
on  western  waters  is  something  to  be  stored  in 
memory.  Never  mind  the  signs  of  the  storm. 


342  ROUND   ANVIL   ROCK 

There  will  be  many  other  storms,  but  never  an- 
other first  steamboat  down  the  Ohio.  Come  out 
and  see  it." 

"  We  can  get  a  better  view  from  the  river 
bank,"  cried  Ruth.  "  Come  along,  David  !  " 

Holding  hands,  the  girl  and  the  boy  ran  to  the 
shore,  leaving  the  others  to  watch  the  great 
spectacle  from  the  doorstep.  And  thus  all  stood, 
marvelling  like  every  living  creature  whose  eyes 
followed  it  down  that  long  river.  But  only  the 
judge  could  partly  grasp  the  greatness  of  the 
event ;  only  he  could  partly  realize  what  it  meant 
to  the  West  and  the  world.  Yet  every  one  waited 
and  watched  as  if  spellbound,  till  the  last  of 
those  first  victorious  banners  of  blue  smoke  thus 
unfurled  over  the  conquered  wilderness,  had 
waved  slowly  out  of  sight  around  the  great 
river's  majestic  bend. 

This  had  brought  a  momentary  forgetfulness 
of  the  strange  look  of  the  heavens  and  the  earth ; 
but  the  consciousness  of  it  now  rushed  back  with 
increased  alarm.  There  were  still  no  clouds  to 
be  seen  anywhere,  no  visible  signs  of  an  ap- 
proaching storm  ;  but  the  thick  veil  of  yellowish 
vapor  was  fast  drawing  an  unnatural  twilight 
over  the  noonday.  Through  this  awful  dimness 
the  sun  was  shining  faintly,  like  a  great  globe  of 
heated  copper,  thus  shedding  a  strange  light,  even 
more  alarming  than  the  sinister  darkness. 

Every  soul  in  the  wilderness  must  now  have 
shrunk,  shuddering  and  appalled,  before  this 


THE   PASSING  OF  PHILIP  ALSTON         343 

unmistakable  approach  of  some  frightful  convul- 
sion of  nature.  The  people  of  Cedar  House,  like 
all  the  rest,  could  do  nothing  but  wait  in  agony 
for  the  unknown  blow  to  fall.  It  seemed  an 
endless  time  in  falling;  under  the  breathless, 
torturing  suspense  the  moments  became  hours, 
with  no  change  except  a  darkening  of  the  unnat- 
ural twilight,  an  increase  of  the  unnatural  sul- 
triness, and  a  deepening  of  the  unnatural  stillness. 
The  little  group  in  the  great  room  of  Cedar 
House  sat  still  and  silent,  save  as  they  uncon- 
sciously drew  closer  together,  moved  by  the  in- 
stinct of  humanity  in  common  danger. 

The  girl  alone  kept  her  post  by  the  open  door 
and  her  watch  over  the  forest  path,  looking  for 
the  coming  of  her  lover.  She  knew  that  but 
one  thing  could  keep  him  from  her  side,  and  with 
all  her  longing  for  his  presence,  a  thrill  of  happi- 
ness came  from  his  absence.  Through  all  its 
distress  her  heart  exulted  in  the  thought  that 
he  was  faithful  in  his  service  to  suffering 
humanity,  even  when  love  itself  beckoned  him 
away.  A  great  tide  of  religious  gratitude  rose 
in  her  heart  sweeping  all  fear  before  it.  The  love 
of  a  man  who  was  both  strong  and  good  — 
the  greatest  gift  that  life  could  give  to  any 
woman — was  safely  hers.  Holding  this  assurance 
to  her  heart,  she  grew  wonderfully  calm.  There 
could  be  nothing  to  fear.  In  this  world  or  the 
next  all  was  well.  A  wonderful  spiritual  exalta- 
tion bore  her  upward  on  its  strong,  swift  wings, 


344  ROUND  ANVIL   ROCK 

high  above  all  the  surrounding  gloom  and  terror, 
till  she  rested  on  a  white  height  of  perfect  peace. 
There  was  a  rapt  look  on  her  quiet,  pale  face  as 
she  sat  thus  with  it  turned  toward  the  forest  path. 
She  arose  quietly  and  stood  in  the  door,  gazing 
at  a  shadowy  form  which  came  suddenly  from 
under  the  dark  trees.  The  thick  yellow  mist 
wrapped  it  darkly,  but  she  presently  knew  by 
intuition  rather  than  by  sight  that  Paul  was 
really  coming  at  last,  and  she  flew  toward  him 
like  a  homing  bird.  He  was  urging  his  horse, 
but  the  animal  held  back  with  an  unwillingness 
such  as  he  had  never  shown  before ;  so  that 
when  the  young  man  saw  the  girl  flying  toward 
him  he  leapt  from  the  saddle,  leaving  the 
horse  to  follow  or  not  as  he  would,  and  ran  to 
meet  her.  As  soon  as  she  could  speak,  she  told 
him  that  she  was  not  afraid  now  that  he  had 
come,  saying  it  over  and  over ;  yet  she  never- 
theless clung  to  him  as  if  she  would  never  let 
him  go. 

"  And  you  will  take  care  of  the  others,  too," 
she  said.  "  Uncle  Robert  doesn't  know  what  to 
do,  nor  William.  Oh  !  Look  !  The  poor  black 
people !  There  they  come  running  up  from  the 
quarters.  See  how  they  are  crowding  round  the 
door,  wild  with  terror !  But  you  will  know 
what  to  say  to  them  as  well  as  the  others.  I  am 
not  afraid,  with  you,"  quietly  looking  up  in  his 
grave  face.  "  Is  it  the  end  of  the  world,  dear 
heart  ?  " 


THE   PASSING   OF   PHILIP   ALSTON         345 

He  said  that  he  knew  no  more  than  herself 
what  it  could  be,  unless  some  terrific  tempest 
might  be  near.  They  moved  hurriedly  on 
toward  the  house,  and  as  they  went  he  told  her 
that  he  was  going  to  the  boat  where  he  had  been 
called  to  see  a  man  ill  of  the  plague.  The  call 
had  come  during  the  night,  but  he  could  not  leave 
another  patient  to  answer  it  more  quickly. 
And  now  he  would  not  leave  her,  for  all  the  rest 
of  the  world,  till  they  knew  what  this  awful  thing 
was  which  seemed  about  to  happen.  The  white 
people  had  come  out  of  the  house  and  stood 
speechless  and  motionless,  looking  up  at  the 
heavens  and  down  at  the  earth,  seeing  both  but 
dimly  through  that  ghastly  twilight  so  awfully 
lit  by  that  lurid  ball  of  fire. 

"  Here  comes  Father  Orin ! "  cried  the  doctor. 
"  Look  at  Toby  and  my  horse ;  see  how  they  are 
walking ! " 

The  horses  could  be  indistinctly  seen  advanc- 
ing slowly  and  reluctantly  through  the  yellowish 
gloom  with  a  curious,  sliding  motion,  as  if  step- 
ping on  ice.  Paul  started  toward  them,  but 
paused,  struck  motionless,  and  held  by  a  sight 
still  more  strange.  The  same  breathless  stillness 
brooded  over  everything;  the  windless  air  now 
weighed  like  lead,  and  yet  at  this  moment  the 
greatest  trees  and  smallest  bushes  suddenly 
began  to  quiver  from  bottom  to  top.  As  far  as 
the  horror-struck  eyes  could  reach  through  that 
unnatural  twilight,  the  mightiest  cottonwoods 


346  ROUND   ANVIL   ROCK 

were  now  bending  and  nodding  like  the  frailest 
reeds.  And  then  there  arose  in  the  far  northeast 
a  faint  rumbling  which  rushed  swiftly  onward 
toward  the  southeast,  growing  louder  as  it  came, 
and  breaking  over  Cedar  House  in  a  thunderous 
roar.  At  the  deafening  crash  Paul  turned  and 
ran  back  to  Ruth,  catching  her  in  his  arms.  The 
ground  was  now  sliding  beneath  their  feet.  The 
solid  earth  was  waving  and  rising  and  falling 
like  a  stormy  sea. 

"  It's  an  earthquake,"  he  whispered,  with  his 
lips  against  her  cheek.  "  Don't  fear,  it  will  pass." 

A  second  shock  followed  the  first,  and  there 
was  no  lightening  of  the  dreadful  gloom  which 
was  one  of  the  greatest  horrors  of  that  horrible 
time.  But  the  men  were  rallying  now  that  they 
knew  what  they  had  to  meet,  and  they  quickly 
and  firmly  drew  the  terror-stricken,  helpless  old 
women  further  away  from  the  house,  fearing 
that  the  massive  logs  of  its  walls  might  be 
shaken  down. 

"  That  isn't  far  enough,"  said  Father  Orin. 
"  Come  still  farther,"  glancing  round  for  the  safest 
refuge.  "  Merciful  God  !  Look  at  the  river ! " 

The  Ohio,  beaten  back  by  the  lashed  and  mad- 
dened Mississippi,  was  leaping  in  great  furious 
waves,  high  and  wild,  as  the  ocean's  in  a  tempest. 
These  monstrous,  foaming  billows  were  springing 
far  up  the  shores  on  both  sides  of  the  river,  and 
devouring  vast  stretches  of  land  covered  with 
gigantic  trees.  The  giants  of  the  forest  fell, 


THE   PASSING  OF   PHILIP  ALSTON   .      347 

groaning,  into  the  boiling,  swirling  flood  which 
leapt  to  catch  them  and  swallowed  them  up  with 
a  hideous,  hissing  noise.  Sunken  trees  which 
had  lain  for  ages  on  the  bottom  of  the  river  rose 
above  the  water  like  ghosts  rising  to  meet  the 
newly  slain. 

"The  boat,"  moaned  Ruth.  "Uncle  Philip's 
boat,  and  the  sick  man  ! " 

Every  eye  turned  in  the  direction  of  the  island. 
No  one  spoke  after  that  first  look.  None  mar- 
velled to  see  that  the  boat  was  missing ;  nothing 
afloat  could  live  in  that  seething  maelstrom, 
thickened  with  melted  earth  and  tangled  with 
fallen  trees.  The  overwhelming  thing  which 
their  faculties  could  not  grasp  was  the  fact  that 
the  island  itself  was  gone.  They  could  only 
stand  staring,  expecting  to  see  it  between  the 
mountainous  waves,  utterly  unable  to  believe  the 
truth,  that  it  had  sunk  out  of  sight  and  was  rest- 
ing on  the  bottom  of  the  river.  And  as  they 
were  thus  still  searching  the  wild,  dark  flood 
with  incredulous  eyes,  they  suddenly  saw  a  small 
row-boat  in  the  middle  of  the  stream.  It  darted 
down  a  towering  wave  and  flew  up  the  next,  and 
came  flying  on  like  some  wild,  winged  thing, 
toward  the  Kentucky  shore.  Another  and  n 
wilder  wave  caught  it,  lifted  it  aloft,  and  tossed 
it  still  nearer  the  land.  It  was  not  far  away 
now,  and  there  came  a  sudden  lightening  of  the 
gloom,  so  that  they  could  see  two  men  in  the 
little  boat. 


348  BOUND   ANVIL   ROCK 

"  They  can  never  live  to  reach  the  shore ! " 
cried  the  doctor. 

«  As  God  wills,"  said  the  priest. 

Instinctively  every  eye  but  the  girl's  was 
scanning  the  shore,  trying  to  find  something 
that  would  float,  something  that  might  help 
to  save  the  men  in  the  boat.  But  there  was 
nothing  in  sight ;  the  fierce  waves  had  swal- 
lowed everything,  and  the  helpless  people  on 
the  bank  could  only  turn  again  to  watch  the 
little  boat.  Ruth's  gaze  had  never  wandered 
from  it,  and  she  still  watched  it  flying  from 
one  wave  to  another,  gazing  as  intently  as  she 
could  through  the  tears  that  rained  over  her 
pale  cheeks.  She  saw  it  go  up  a  gigantic  wave 
with  a  flying  leap  and  dart  down  again,  and 
then  it  was  lost  to  sight  so  long  that  they 
thought  it  was  gone.  But  at  last  it  came  up 
near  the  shore,  overturned,  and  with  only  one 
man  clinging  to  it.  He  was  on  the  far  side  of 
the  frail  shell,  so  that  they  could  not  see  him 
distinctly,  although  he  was  not  far  from  the 
shore  and  there  was  more  light.  And  then  a 
swirl  of  the  wild  waters  brought  him  to  the 
nearer  side,  and  raised  him  higher. 

"  It's  an  old  man !  "  sobbed  Ruth.  «  His  head 
is  white.  Oh !  Oh !  It's  uncle  Philip  !  It's 
uncle  Philip !  He  has  been  to  the  island.  Save 
him,  Paul!" 

The  doctor  had  already  thrown  off  his  coat, 
and  was  throwing  aside  his  boots.  He  had 


THE   PASSING  OF  PHILIP  ALSTON         349 

not  waited  for  her  last  words ;  he  was  not  sure 
that  it  was  Philip  Alston ;  but  he  knew  that 
some  fellow-creature  was  perishing  almost  within 
reach  of  his  arm.  He  was  now  running  down 
the  trembling  bank,  and  in  another  instant  had 
plunged  into  the  boiling,  roaring,  furious  flood, 
and  was  swimming  toward  that  wildly  rising 
and  falling  silver  head,  which  shone  like  a  beacon 
through  the  lurid  light.  It  was  hard  to  keep 
anything  in  sight.  He  was  a  strong  swimmer, 
but  his  full  strength  had  not  come  back,  and 
the  fury  of  the  waves  was  swirling  trees  like 
straws. 

After  that  one  involuntary  appeal,  Ruth  was 
silent.  Her  heart  almost  stopped  beating  as  she 
realized  what  her  cry  had  done.  A  woman's 
mind  acts  with  marvellous  quickness  when  all 
she  loves  is  at  stake.  As  in  a  lightning  flash 
she  knew  that  she  had  sent  her  lover  to  risk  his 
life  for  her  foster-father,  without  knowing  what 
she  did.  What  she  would  have  done  had  there 
been  time  to  hesitate  she  could  not  tell,  dared 
not  think.  It  must  have  been  a  bitter  choice, 
this  risking  of  her  lover's  life  against  the  cer- 
tainty of  her  father's  death.  But  now  she 
realized  nothing,  felt  nothing,  except  that  the 
desperate  die  was  cast.  She  did  not  notice  that 
the  others  followed  as  she  flew  after  Paul  to  the 
river's  very  brink.  The  earth  had  ceased  quiver- 
ing, but  the  shores  were  still  crumbling  under 
the  crushing  blows  of  the  maddened  waves. 


350  ROUND   ANVIL   EOCK 

The  thick,  dark  water  coiled  unheeded  about  her 
feet,  as  she  stood  silent,  straining  her  eyes  after 
her  lover  as  he  swam  toward  that  silver  head 
which  still  rose  and  fell  with  the  waves.  She  did 
not  move  when  she  saw  a  gigantic  cottonwood 
lean,  uprooted  and  tottering.  She  did  not  utter 
a  cry  when  it  fell  behind  him,  cutting  him  off 
and  hiding  him,  so  that  neither  he  nor  the  silver 
head  could  be  seen  from  the  land.  She  stood 
as  if  turned  to  stone,  waiting  —  only  waiting  — 
hardly  hoping  that  it  had  not  carried  them  both 
down.  She  began  to  weep  softly,  and  her  hands 
were  suddenly  and  unconsciously  clasped  in  silent 
prayer,  when  she  saw  him  once  more  swimming 
—  still  swimming  —  but  coming  back  around  the 
top  of  the  tree. 

It  had  struck  the  little  boat  in  its  fall,  sending 
it  down  to  come  up  in  fragments,  but  the  man 
was  left  hanging  to  a  bough,  and  it  was  toward 
him  that  Paul  Colbert  was  struggling  against  the 
fury  of  the  flood.  The  tree  hung  to  the  bank 
by  its  loosened  roots,  but  its  trunk  and  branches 
were  swaying  wildly,  fiercely  tossed  by  the  waves. 
The  man  was  sinking  lower  in  the  water,  his 
strength  almost  was  gone,  and  his  hold  was 
giving  way,  when  Paul  reached  him.  The 
white  head,  turning,  revealed  Philip  Alston's 
face  and  Paul  Colbert  thought  that  he  shrank 
under  his  touch.  Neither  spoke  for  a  moment; 
both  needed  all  their  breath  to  reach  a  higher 
bough. 


THE   PASSING   OF   PHILIP   ALSTON          351 

"Let  me  help  you,"  gasped  Paul  Colbert. 
"Try  to  climb  to  the  next  limb.  It  is  stronger 
and  steadier." 

"Thank  you,"  panted  Philip  Alston. 

They  reached  it  together  and  could  now  see 
the  shore,  and  both  looked  at  Ruth  through  the 
swaying  boughs  and  flying  spray.  The  young 
man's  heart  leapt  and  his  courage  rose  at  the 
sight  of  the  slender,  girlish  form.  He  saw  her 
stretch  out  her  arms,  and  remembering  that 
she  loved  this  old  man,  panting  and  struggling 
at  his  side,  he  shouted  with  all  the  power  that 
he  had,  telling  her  that  he  would  do  his  best  to 
bring  him  to  land.  Philip  Alston  gave  him  a 
strange  look,  and  then  turned  his  gaze  again 
toward  the  little  figure  on  the  shore.  In  a  tone 
that  was  even  more  strange  than  his  look,  he 
murmured  something  about  being  on  his  way 
back  from  the  island.  He  also  said  something 
about  going  to  the  boat  early  in  the  morning  to 
countermand  an  order  that  he  had  given  on  the 
night  before. 

« I  changed  my  mind  —  I  found  I  couldn't 
do  —  " 

Paul  Colbert  did  not  understand,  and  scarcely 
heard  the  confused,  gasping,  hurried  words.  He 
was  looking  at  Ruth,  and  longing  to  loose  his  hold 
on  the  bough,  long  enough  to  wave  the  assurance 
that  his  voice  could  not  carry  across  the  roaring 
waters.  And  this  was  the  instant  that  Nature 
chose  to  mock  the  pitting  of  his  puny  powers 


352  ROUND   ANVIL   ROCK 

against  her  resistless  forces.  A  fierce  wave  tore 
away  the  roots  that  the  tree  bound  to  the  bank, 
and  hurled  it  into  the  flood.  It  swung  round  and 
turned  partly  over,  burying  the  bough  that  they 
clung  to,  deep  under  the  water.  Both  went  down 
with  it  and  Paul  Colbert  thought,  with  the  quick- 
ness and  clearness  of  mind  that  comes  to  the 
drowning,  that  they  could  never  come  up  again. 
When  he  found  his  own  head  once  more  above 
water,  with  his  hand  grasping  a  bough  of  a  smaller 
tree,  which  had  been  driven  close  to  the  shore, 
he  looked  round  for  Philip  Alston.  There  was 
no  silver  head  anywhere  to  be  seen  now  above 
the  thick,  dark  river.  Half  stunned,  he  gazed 
again  blankly,  feeling  vaguely  that  his  own  head 
must  go  down  very  soon ;  his  strength  was  wholly 
gone ;  he  could  not  even  see  the  shore,  though 
it  was  very  near,  because  he  was  not  strong 
enough  to  lift  himself  above  the  trunk  of  the 
tree  which  hid  it  from  his  sight.  And  then  at 
last  he  heard  Father  Orin's  voice :  — 

"  Hold  fast,  my  boy.  Hold  fast  just  a  moment 
longer.  We  are  coming,  Toby  and  I.  Try  to  hold 
on.  We  are  almost  there." 

They  reached  him  as  his  hand  let  go  and  his 
head  sunk,  and  they  bore  him  to  the  shore  and 
laid  him  down  at  Ruth's  feet,  unconscious,  but 
alive. 

When  Nature  has  thus  rent  the  trembling  earth 
and  thus  smitten  appalled  humanity  by  some 


THE   PASSING  OF  PHILIP  ALSTON         353 

stupendous  convulsion,  the  outburst  of  passion 
nearly  always  passes  quickly,  and  she  hastens 
to  console  by  concealing  its  traces.  These  fatal 
throes  were  hardly  over  before  she  was  quelling 
the  frenzied  river  by  her  sudden  coldness,  and  only 
a  few  days  had  passed  before  she  was  covering 
its  subdued  waters  with  a  heavy  white  sheet  of 
glittering  ice.  And  then,  as  if  to  make  the  torn 
land  lovely  again  at  once,  she  wrapped  it  in  a 
dazzling  robe  of  spotless  snow.  Above  this  she 
hurriedly  hung  the  broken  boughs  of  the  wrecked 
cottonwoods  with  countless  flashing  prisms,  en- 
crusting the  smallest  twigs  to  the  very  top  in 
sparkling  crystal ;  and  coming  down  she  stilled 
the  murmur  of  the  reeds  under  icy  helmets — bind- 
ing all  together  with  crystalline  cables  of  frost. 
So  that  under  the  rainbow  light  of  the  brilliant 
winter  sun  the  world  was  once  more  radiant  with 
peace  and  joy  and  beauty  unspeakable. 

And  Cedar  House,  too,  was  now  just  as  it  had 
been  before.  From  its  open  door  nothing  could 
be  seen  of  the  marks  left  by  Nature's  passionate 
fury ;  marks  which  must  remain  forever  unless 
some  more  furious  passion  should  come  to  erase 
them.  It  was  hard  to  tell  just  how  and  wherein 
the  whole  face  of  the  country  had  been  so  greatly 
changed.  The  people  of  Cedar  House  knew  that 
a  great  lake  nearly  seventy  miles  in  length  and 
deeper  in  places  than  the  height  of  the  tallest 
trees  whose  tops  barely  showed  above  the  water, 
had  taken  the  place  of  a  range  of  high  hills 


354  ROUND  ANVIL  ROCK 

covered  with  primeval  forest.  But  this  was  too 
far  away  to  be  seen  from  Cedar  House,  and  no 
one  there  had  the  heart  to  approach  it.  One 
sad  pilgrimage  had  been  made,  and  that  was  to 
the  ruins  of  Philip  Alston's  house.  It  was  now 
a  mere  heap  of  fallen  logs,  and  although  these 
were  lifted  and  laid  in  orderly  rows,  and  the 
ground  searched  over  inch  by  inch,  there  was 
nothing  but  his  fine  clothes  and  some  simple  fur- 
niture to  show  that  it  had  ever  been  occupied. 

"To  think  that  he  lived  like  this  —  that  he 
gave  me  everything  and  kept  nothing  for  him- 
self," Ruth  said  softly  through  her  tears,  looking 
up  in  Paul  Colbert's  troubled  face.  "  Such  a 
desolate,  lonely  life.  It  breaks  my  heart  to 
think  of  it.  But  I  would  have  lived  in  his  house 
if  I  could.  I  wanted  to  live  in  it  —  I  wouldn't 
have  cared  how  plain  and  rough  it  was.  I 
wanted  to  live  with  him  and  cheer  him  and 
make  him  happy,  as  if  he  had  been  my  own 
father.  I  couldn't  have  loved  him  more  dearly 
if  he  had  been.  And  you  would  have  loved  him, 
too,  if  you  had  known  him  better.  I  am  sure 
that  you  would.  You  couldn't  have  helped  lov- 
ing him  —  if  only  for  his  goodness  to  me.  And 
he  was  kind  to  every  one.  I  never  heard  him 
speak  a  harsh  word  of  any  living  thing.  It 
was  in  being  kind  that  he  lost  his  life ;  he 
must  have  gone  to  see  the  man  who  was  ill 
on  the  boat." 

The  young  doctor  looked  away  and  fixed  his 


THE   PASSING   OF   PHILIP   ALSTON         355 

eyes  on  the  men  who  were  going  over  the  ground 
around  the  cabin. 

"  Who  are  those  men,  Paul  ?  And  what  are 
they  doing  here  ?  "  she  asked  suddenly,  observing 
that  they  seemed  to  be  looking  for  something. 
"It  hurts  me  to  have  strangers  handling  these 
things  that  belonged  to  him.  What  are  they 
looking  for  ?  Who  are  they  ?  " 

"  Dearest,  when  a  thing  like  this  happens  the 
law  has  to  take  certain  —  " 

"What  has  the  law  to  do  with  my  uncle 
Philip's  clothes?  No  one  shall  touch  them  but 
me  or  you ! "  bending  over  the  garments  and 
gathering  them  up  in  her  arms.  "  What  are 
they  digging  for?  Make  them  stop.  Oh,  stop 
them ;  this  spot  is  like  his  grave,  the  only  grave 
he  can  ever  have." 

Paul  could  not  tell  her  then,  nor  for  months 
afterward,  that  it  was  impossible  to  stop  the 
search  for  the  gold  which  was  believed  to  be 
buried  in  the  earth  of  the  forest  near  the  ruined 
cabin.  He  waited  till  the  forest  was  once  more 
quivering  with  tender  young  leaves  and  the  river 
was  gentle  and  warm  again  —  and  she  had 
become  his  wife.  When  he  gently  told  her  at 
last,  she  looked  at  him  wonderingly  like  a 
child,  and  was  silent  for  some  time.  She  knew 
so  little  about  money  or  the  eagerness  for 
riches.  And  then  she  smiled  and  said  that 
she  herself  would  certainly  claim  any  gold 


356  BOUND   ANVIL  ROCK 

belonging  to  Philip  Alston  that  ever  might  be 
found,  and  that  David  and  the  Sisters  and 
Father  Orin  and  Toby  should  have  the  spend- 
ing of  it. 

«  For  that  is  what  he  would  like  and  we  have 
no  need  of  more,  now  that  you  are  becoming 
famous.  We  have  all  and  more  than  we  want. 
Uncle  Robert  has  plenty  for  himself  and  his 
sisters.  William  will  soon  be  going  to  Congress, 
if  you  and  uncle  Robert  work  hard  for  him. 
Yes,  David  and  the  Sisters  and  Father  Orin  and 
Toby  shall  have  dear  uncle  Philip's  gold.  He 
would  wish  them  to  have  it.  Think  how  gen- 
erous he  always  was  to  them  and  every  one,  and 
how  kind  to  all.  If  you  only  could  have  known 
him  just  a  little  longer,  dear  heart !  Knowing 
him  better,  you  would  have  known,  as  I  do, 
how  truly  he  loved  everything  fine  and  noble 
and  great." 

He  did  not  reply  but  silently  laid  his  hand  on 
hers.  Sighing  and  smiling,  she  nestled  closer  to 
his  side.  And  then  as  they  sat  thus  with  their 
eyes  on  the  glorious  afterglow,  the  Angelus  be- 
gan to  peal  softly  through  the  shadows,  and  the 
Beautiful  River  seemed  in  the  softened  light  to 
curve  its  majestic  arm  more  closely  around  this 
wonderful  new  country,  from  which  a  blighting 
shadow  was  lifted  forever. 


BY   THE   SAME   AUTHOR 


OLDFIELD 

A  Kentucky  Tale  of  the  Last  Century 

By  NANCY  HUSTON  BANKS 

Cloth     J2mo    $1.50 


"To  write  a  story  of  Southern  life  in  the  middle  of  the  last  century 
without  drawing  upon  the  Civil  War  for  material,  or  upon  dialect  for 
local  color,  is  something  of  a  feat.  Mrs.  Banks  has  done  this  and 
more.  She  has  taken  her  readers  away  from  everything  that  is  sordid 
and  unwholesome,  and  for  a  while  has  bidden  them  enter  a  community 
of  loving  and  lovable  people.  Figuratively  speaking,  the  pages  are 
fragrant  with  the  odor  of  dried  rose  leaves."  —  The  Bookman. 

"  This  neighborhood  story  is  too  dainty  a  bit  of  work  to  be  classified 
chronologically  with  the  growing  reminiscent  fiction  of  the  first  half  of 
the  last  century;  it  is  literature,  as  'Our  Village  '  is  literature, and,  in 
its  own  way,  the  '  Window  in  Thrums.'  Nor  is  it  all  daintiness,  all 
pastel  and  fragile  old  china,  for  there  is  strength  in  it  as  well,  the  deep 
strength  of  character,  the  tempering  and  purifying  of  man  by  the  fires 
of  life,  which  burn  in  the  quiet  old  village  as  steadily,  if  with  far  less 
crackle,  as  in  the  busy  marts  of  man."  —  Mail  and  Express. 

"  As  you  turn  over  its  pages  you  get  something  of  the  feeling  you 
have  when  you  open  a  long-shut  drawer  in  which  something  very 
fragile  and  delicate  has  been  packed  away  in  lavender  and  dried  rose 
leaves.  .  .  .  There  are  touches  about  it  which  recall  Miss  Wilkins's 
work."  —  Commercial  Advertiser. 

"The  new  century  is  so  young  that  we  expect  a  historical  romance 
of  the  dark  and  bloody  ground ;  instead  we  have  a  simple  tale  of  the 
days  just  before  the  war,  with  people  so  quaint  and  delightful  that 
they  might  have  lived  in  Cranford  instead  of  Kentucky."  —  The  Sun. 


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RONALD  CARNAQUAY 

A  Commercial  Clergyman 

By  BRADLEY  OILMAN 

Author  of  "The  Parsonage  Porch,"  "Back  to  the  Soil,"  etc.,  etc. 

Cloth.         J2mo.        $1.50 


"Will  be  sure  to  make  comment,  especially  in  clerical 
circles.  Its  title  fairly  indicates  its  character,  though  its 
interest  is  of  a  broadly  human  sort,  and  by  no  means  con- 
fined to  the  somewhat  caustic  pictures  which  it  gives  of  some 
conditions  that  are  all  too  prevalent  in  the  churches  of  the 
present  day.  ...  In  short,  the  author  has  shown  a  man 
gifted  with  what  in  business  life  are  real  virtues,  who  makes 
a  detestable  figure  as  a  priest,  and  the  reproach  is  laid  where 
it  belongs  —  not  on  an  individual,  but  on  the  conditions  which 
tempt  such  men  into  the  priesthood,  and  give  them  oppor- 
tunities to  outshine  those  who  have  a  true  spiritual  calling. 
In  this  Mr.  Gilman  is  quite  fair,  and  though  his  book  is  often 
sharp,  it  is  free  from  bitterness,  and  all  the  more  likely  for 
that  reason  to  achieve  the  desired  purpose." 

—  Springfield  Republican. 

"  Mr.  Gilman  has  written  a  book  which  must  be  read  with 
pleasure  by  all  who  admire  the  ability  to  reproduce  phases  of 
contemporary  life  with  etching-like  fidelity." 

—  New  York  Commercial  Advertiser. 

"  Throughout  the  book  shows  the  stroke  of  an  author  who 
writes  correctly  and  with  full  information  about  his  subject." 

-   ,  . ,  ; .;          —  Chicago  Tribune. 


THE  PAGAN  AT  THE  SHRINE 

By    PAUL    QWYNNE 

Author  of  "Marts,"  etc. 

Cloth.         12mo.        $1.50 

It  is  a  novel  dealing  with  Spanish  life,  its  scene  being  laid  in  an  Anda- 
lusian  town,  with  which  the  author  is  as  familiar  as  Miss  Wilkins  is  with 
a  New  England  village,  or  as  Addison  was  with  the  country  he  has  so 
faithfully  described.  In  this  volume  the  author  brings  to  our  attention 
all  that  is  typical,  racial,  or  characteristic.  It  is  a  true  study  of  the  native 
individual.  The  description  of  the  conclaves  at  the  barber  shop  where 
the  barber,  priest,  alcalde,  and  schoolmaster  meet  to  discuss  public 
affairs,  exchange  racy  Spanish  proverbs,  and  squabble  in  the  most  amus- 
ing and  social  way,  is  a  unique  characterization  of  the  Spanish  type. 
There  is  a  plentiful  sprinkling  of  wit  throughout,  and  the  scenes  are  ani- 
mated and  picturesque.  One  is  convinced,  after  reading  this  book,  that 
the  author,  besides  being  a  student  of  human  nature,  is  thoroughly  ac- 
quainted with  the  customs  of  the  people  he  so  cleverly  describes,  and 
that  he  has  made  a  special  study  of  their  peculiarities,  which  are  quite 
unique  to  the  outside  world.  The  main  thread  of  the  story  is  tragical. 
The  history  of  an  illegitimate  son  of  a  priest  and  a  peasant  girl,  and  of 
the  vengeance  brought  through  him  by  fate  on  the  father  priest  who  has 
concealed  his  sin,  goes  to  make  a  powerful  and  intensely  interesting  plot. 


FROM  THE  UNVARYING  STAR 

By  ELSWORTH   LAWSON 

Author  of  "  Euphrosyae  mad  Her  Golden  Book,"  etc. 

doth.        I2mo.       $1.50 

The  scene  of  this  novel  is  laid  in  Yorkshire,  the  author's  home.  The 
hero,  Stephen  Austin,  is  a  young  minister  who  brings  to  his  new  parish 
his  sister,  who  has  committed  a  grave  social  fault.  He  conceals  her 
story,  and  is  slandered  by  an  evil-minded  deacon.  The  heroine  of  the 
story  is  the  girl  he  loves.  The  book  is  not  a  tragedy,  though  it  has  all 
the  elements  of  a  tragedy  in  the  opening.  It  is  far  removed  from  the 
problem  novel  in  its  unconventionality,  its  freshness  of  insight,  and  its 
glimpses  into  experience.  There  is  an  element  of  passion  in  the  author's 
work  underlying  a  genuine  religious  feeling.  So  it  may  be  left  to  the 
reader  an  unconventional  story  on  a  high  spiritual  plane,  and  at  the 
same  time  a  passionate  love  story. 


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THE  GREY  WIG  and  Other  Stories 

By  ISRAEL    ZANGWILL.      Author   of  "Children   of  the 
Ghetto,"  etc.,  etc.  Cloth.     i2ino.     $1.50 

"  Mr.  Zangwill's  stories  reveal  the  grasp  of  a  strong  mind,  the 
fertility  of  a  ready  imagination,  and  the  easy,  natural  flow  of  a  born 
storyteller."  —  Boston  Herald. 

THE  FOUR  FEATHERS 

By  A.  E.  W.  MASON.    Author  of  "The  Courtship  of  Mor- 
rice  Buckler,"  etc.,  etc.  Cloth,     izmo.     $1.50 

"The  book  is  out  of  the  common  run  of  present-day  fiction, 
welcome,  above  all,  for  a  refreshing  note  of  sterling  manliness,  of 
the  loyalty  of  men  of  honor  toward  each  other,  for  its  interpreta- 
tion of  the  fine  meaning  of  the  old  English  expression,  '  a  soldier 
and  a  gentleman.' "  —  New  York  Mail  and  Express. 

THE  VIRGINIAN:  A  Horseman  of  the  Plains 

By  OWEN   WISTER.    Author  of  "  Lin  McLean,"  etc.,  etc. 
With  eight  full-page  illustrations  by  ARTHUR  I.  KELLER. 

Cloth,     ramo.    $1.50 

"There  is  not  a  page  in  Mr.  Wister's  new  book  which  is  not 
interesting.  This  is  its  first  great  merit,  that  it  arouses  the  sym- 
pathy of  the  reader  and  holds  him  absorbed  and  amused  to  the 
end.  It  does  a  great  deal  more  for  him.  .  .  .  Whoever  reads  the 
first  page  will  find  it  next  to  impossible  to  put  the  book  down  until 
he  has  read  every  one  of  the  five  hundred  and  four  in  the  book, 
and  then  he  will  wish  there  were  more  of  them." 

—  New  York  Tribune. 

CECILIA:  A  Story  of  Modern  Rome 

By  F.   MARION    CRAWFORD.      Author   of    "Marietta," 
"  Saracinesca,"  etc.,  etc.  Cloth.     iamo.     $1.50 

"The  love  story,  which  is  the  dominating  interest  throughout, 
is  so  strange  and  novel  a  one  that  many  readers  will,  we  think, 
compare  it  with  '  Mr.  Isaacs,'  the  author's  first  and  most  popular 
book.  .  .  .  Mr.  Crawford  will,  we  think,  be  held  to  have  scored 
a  new  and  distinct  success  in  this  story. " 

—  The  Philadelphia  North  American. 


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"^GONUUBRJRYFWUTY 


